Two years had passed since I died and was reborn, and I still wasn't used to it.
The frustration was constant, a low simmer beneath every moment of every day. I had the mind of a seventeen year old trapped in the body of a two year old, and the disconnect was maddening. My thoughts moved at their normal pace, analyzing, planning, remembering. But my body? My body was a prison of chubby limbs and uncoordinated movements.
Walking had been a nightmare to relearn. My brain knew exactly how to do it, but my legs were too short, my balance all wrong, my muscles weak and undeveloped. I'd fallen more times than I could count, each tumble a humiliating reminder that I was starting over from scratch.
Talking was worse. I knew the words. I understood grammar and syntax and could compose eloquent sentences in my head. But when I tried to speak, my tongue wouldn't cooperate, my vocal cords produced sounds that were more gurgle than language. I'd had to relearn speech like any other toddler, starting with mama and dada and slowly, painfully building up a vocabulary that my mind already possessed.
The only mercy was that my past life was beginning to fade. Not the knowledge or the personality, but the specific details. I could no longer clearly remember Leo's face when I looked in mirrors or reflective surfaces. The names of my old friends were becoming fuzzy, their features blurring together. My parents from that life, their voices were growing distant, like trying to remember a dream hours after waking.
It should have bothered me more than it did. But honestly? It was a relief. That life had ended. That person had died on a street corner chasing a spotlight that meant nothing. I was Quin Baker now, and Quin Baker had opportunities that Leo never dreamed of.
I was currently sitting in the family library, a room I'd come to love over the past year. Stone walls lined with wooden shelves packed with leather bound books. A fireplace crackling in the corner, casting dancing shadows. Thick carpets that muffled footsteps. It smelled like old paper and wood smoke and something else I couldn't quite identify but associated with comfort.
Julian sat across from me on the floor, his eight year old face animated with excitement. He'd arranged several carved wooden figures between us, along with what looked like a hand drawn map on parchment. His white hair with its distinctive red streaks caught the firelight, making it seem to glow.
"Okay Quin, today I'm going to teach you about the world!" he announced with the enthusiasm only a child could muster for what was essentially a geography lesson. "You're old enough to understand now, right?"
I clapped my hands together and bounced slightly, the picture of an excited toddler. "Yes! Julian teach!"
My speech was deliberately simple, carefully calibrated to sound appropriate for my age. In reality, I could speak in complete sentences. I'd been able to for months. But that would raise questions I wasn't ready to answer.
Julian beamed at my enthusiasm. Behind him, I could see our parents watching from near the doorway. Juan leaned against the frame, arms crossed but expression soft. Lillian sat in a nearby chair, a book in her lap but her attention on us. They'd been doing this more often lately, watching Julian and me interact with those fond parental smiles that I was beginning to recognize.
"Alright, so this," Julian held up the map with both hands, "is Terra. Our world!"
I leaned forward, eyes wide with manufactured curiosity. Inside, my mind was racing. Finally. Finally I was going to get real information about this place.
The map showed a massive landmass, roughly oval shaped, with various regions marked out in different colors. Julian's finger traced the outline as he spoke.
"Terra is all on one big continent. No oceans between kingdoms, just rivers and mountains and forests. And on Terra, there are three races that live together!"
He picked up three of the wooden figures. The first was clearly human, basic and unremarkable. The second had pointed ears and delicate features. The third was more muscular, with what looked like animal characteristics.
"Humans are the most common," Julian said, holding up the human figure. "That's us! We're everywhere, in every kingdom. We're not the strongest or the longest lived, but there's more of us than anyone else."
He set down the human and picked up the elf figure. "These are elves. They live really, really long. Like hundreds of years! Father says some elves remember things from before Grandfather was born. They mostly live in the Sylfet Domain, but you can find them in other kingdoms too. They're really good at magic."
The way he said it, with such casual acceptance of races that shouldn't exist, of magic being real, made something in my chest tighten with excitement. This wasn't fiction. This wasn't a story I was reading. This was my actual life now.
Julian set down the elf and picked up the beast-like figure. "And these are Therianthropes. They're really strong! Like, really really strong. They can be part lion or part wolf or part bear or lots of different animals. Most of them live in the Rengar Kingdom. Father says their warriors are the scariest to fight because they're so fierce."
I reached out with chubby hands and touched the Therianthrope figure, examining it with exaggerated wonder while my mind cataloged every detail. Three races. Different strengths and weaknesses. Classic fantasy setup, but this was real. This was actually real.
"Now, the kingdoms!" Julian spread the map between us, pointing to different colored regions. "There are five kingdoms on Terra, and they're all really different."
His finger landed on the largest section, colored in deep red. "This is the Solan Empire. It's the biggest kingdom, see? It covers almost half of Terra! The Emperor is Oberon Solan the Fourth, and he's been emperor for like a hundred years or something. Father says the Solan Empire is ancient and powerful and you don't want to make them angry."
I filed that information away. Largest kingdom, ancient power, current emperor with a very long reign. That suggested either longevity magic or a family line. Either way, it meant stability and established power.
Julian's finger moved to a smaller region colored in blue, nestled against the edge of the Solan Empire. "This is our kingdom! The Stellis Kingdom! It's not as big as the Solan Empire, but it's still really important. Our king is Klaus Stellis the First."
There was reverence in Julian's voice when he said the king's name, a kind of hero worship that made his eyes light up.
"King Klaus is amazing," Julian continued, his words tumbling out faster now. "He used to be part of the Solan Empire, but he was so strong, so incredibly strong, that he broke away and created his own kingdom! Can you imagine? He just said 'I'm making my own kingdom now' and he did it! And the Emperor, Emperor Oberon, he just let him! Didn't even fight about it! Father says it's because King Klaus is one of the strongest men in the entire world, and even the Emperor respects strength like that."
I let my mouth hang open slightly, playing the amazed toddler while my mind worked through the implications. A kingdom founded through strength, recognized through respect rather than conquest. That painted an interesting picture of how power worked in this world. Might didn't just make right, it made policy.
"The Baker family," Julian said with unmistakable pride, "we're one of the backbone noble families of the Stellis Kingdom. That means we're really important! We serve King Klaus directly. Father says our family has been loyal to the Stellis line since the beginning, and we'll always be loyal. It's our duty and our honor."
Juan's voice came from the doorway, warm and approving. "That's right, Julian. Well explained."
Julian's face lit up at the praise, and even I felt a small flutter of something. Not quite pride, but close. These people, this family, they cared. That was still strange to process.
Julian pointed to another region, this one colored in green. "This is the Sylfet Domain. That's where most of the elves live. It's covered in huge forests, trees so big you can build houses in them! Father took me near the border once, and you could see the forest from miles away. The elves don't really have a king like we do. They have a council of elders who are all really old and wise."
His finger shifted to a region colored in brown and orange. "And this is the Rengar Kingdom, where the Therianthropes live. It's mostly mountains and plains, good for hunting. They have a king, but Father says their king has to be the strongest warrior. If someone stronger comes along, they can challenge for the throne. It's like, whoever's the toughest is in charge."
That was a fascinatingly unstable system. Meritocracy taken to its logical extreme. I wondered how often their leadership changed hands.
Finally, Julian pointed to a region colored in purple, roughly in the center of the continent where all the other kingdoms seemed to converge. "And this is the Alverian Domain. This one's special because all three races live there together. Humans, elves, and Therianthropes, all mixed up. Father says it's neutral ground, where the kingdoms can meet and trade and talk without fighting. It's not as big as the Solan Empire or even our kingdom, but it's really important for keeping peace."
I studied the map carefully, memorizing the positions, the relative sizes, the way the kingdoms bordered each other. The Solan Empire dominated the east. The Stellis Kingdom was northwest, a breakaway piece that had earned its independence. The Sylfet Domain covered the western forests. The Rengar Kingdom held the southern mountains. And the Alverian Domain sat in the middle like a buffer state.
"Big," I said, pointing to the Solan Empire. "Really big."
"The biggest!" Julian confirmed. "And this one," he pointed to the Alverian Domain, "is second biggest after the Solan Empire. Well, maybe third. The Stellis Kingdom is pretty big too when you really look at it."
He sat back, looking pleased with himself. "So that's Terra! Three races, five kingdoms, all on one continent. Pretty cool, right?"
"Cool," I agreed, clapping my hands. Inside, my mind was racing through possibilities. This world, this Terra, it had structure and history and politics. It had races and kingdoms and power dynamics. It was everything I'd read about in countless fantasy novels, except it was real.
Julian wasn't done though. He leaned forward, his expression shifting from proud teacher to excited child. "But Quin, that's not even the coolest part. The coolest part is mana!"
My heart skipped a beat. Here it was. The magic system. The power structure. The thing that would determine everything about how this world actually worked.
"Mana?" I repeated, tilting my head in exaggerated confusion.
"Mana!" Julian said, his eyes practically glowing. "It's this energy that's in everything. In the air, in the ground, in plants and animals and people. Everything has mana!"
He held up his hand, fingers spread. "Inside every person is something called a mana core. It's like, um, like a ball of energy right here." He pressed his hand to his chest. "When you turn nine years old, your mana core awakens. And when it awakens, you find out what path you'll walk."
Lillian's voice drifted from across the room, gentle but instructive. "There are two paths, Quin. Warriors and Mages. When your mana core awakens, your body's composition determines which path is yours."
Julian nodded enthusiastically. "Right! So some people become warriors, and some people become mages. You can't choose, it just happens based on who you are inside."
I filed that away with a mental note to completely ignore it. If there was one thing I'd learned from all those novels, it was that systems had loopholes. Rules were meant to be broken. The protagonist always found a way to exceed the limitations.
"Warriors," Julian continued, picking up a wooden sword from beside him, "they use mana to make their bodies stronger, faster, better at fighting. They can do incredible things! Father once broke a boulder with his bare hands. Just punched it and it exploded into pieces!"
Juan chuckled from the doorway. "That was to clear a path, Julian. Not to show off."
"It was still amazing!" Julian insisted. He set down the sword. "Warriors are ranked by stars. When you first awaken, you're a one star warrior. Then as you get stronger and learn to use more mana, you go up. Two star, three star, all the way up to ten star. But Father says getting past five star is really, really hard. Most warriors never make it that far."
He puffed up his chest with pride. "Father is a seven star warrior! That makes him one of the strongest in the whole kingdom! Only King Klaus is stronger. The King is an eight star warrior, and Father says there are only like five eight star warriors in all of Terra!"
Seven stars. Eight stars. The power scaling was becoming clear. And if eight star was considered world class, then nine and ten star must be practically mythical.
"Mages are different," Julian said, his tone shifting slightly. "They use mana to cast spells and do magic. They can shoot fire or make ice or move things without touching them or heal people. Mother is a mage!"
Lillian smiled from her chair. "A five circle mage, to be specific."
"Mages are ranked by circles," Julian explained. "One circle when you awaken, then up through ten circles just like warriors with stars. And just like with warriors, getting to five circles is super hard. Mother is really strong because she made it to five circles. Father says only really talented people can reach five star or five circle."
Five being the dividing line between normal and exceptional. That was important information. It suggested exponential growth in difficulty. Getting to five was a major achievement. Getting past it must be monumental.
I looked at Lillian with new eyes. She was sitting there so calmly, reading her book, but she was apparently one of the stronger magic users in the kingdom. And Juan, leaning casually against the doorframe, was even more formidable as a seven star warrior.
My new family was powerful. That was good. That would provide protection and resources while I grew.
"The Baker family," Julian said, his tone becoming more serious, "we're a warrior family. Father is a warrior, Grandfather was a warrior, Great Grandfather was a warrior. We're all warriors locked to the path of the sword. When I awaken next year, I'll become a warrior too."
There was nervousness beneath his excitement. Expectation. Pressure. He was eight years old and already feeling the weight of family legacy.
"You'll be a great warrior," Juan said, and the confidence in his voice seemed to ease some of Julian's tension. "You have the Baker blood. The sword will answer you."
Julian smiled, but I could see the worry still lingering. What if he wasn't good enough? What if he disappointed them? These were the thoughts I could read in his expression because I'd had similar thoughts in my past life, always trying to live up to expectations that felt impossible.
"And the coolest thing," Julian continued, clearly trying to recapture his enthusiasm, "is that everyone who awakens, whether warrior or mage, they can use every element!"
My attention sharpened. "Every element?"
"Well, kind of," Julian amended. "So there are lots of elements, right? Fire, water, earth, air, lightning, ice, light, darkness, and probably more that I don't know about. When you awaken, you can technically use all of them. But your body locks into one element, or sometimes two elements, or if you're really really lucky, three elements!"
He held up fingers as he counted. "Most people lock into one element. That becomes their specialty, the magic or techniques they're best at. Some people, the talented ones, they lock into two elements. And then there are the legendary people, the heroes from stories, they lock into three elements. Father says he's never met anyone with three elemental affinities, only heard stories about them."
Elemental affinities. Locked potential. Artificial limitations based on natural talent.
I hated it already.
"Father is locked into lightning," Julian said with clear admiration. "His sword techniques are all lightning based. When he fights, you can see electricity crackling around his blade. It's so cool! And Mother is locked into fire and wind, two elements! That's part of why she's so strong."
Lillian looked up from her book, her azure eyes meeting mine for a moment. There was something in her gaze, a kind of knowing amusement, like she could see right through my act. It made me wonder how much she actually suspected about her youngest son's true mental state.
"I hope I get lightning like Father," Julian said wistfully. "Or maybe fire like Mother. Or both! Wouldn't it be amazing if I got two elements?"
"You'll get what suits you best," Juan said. "The mana doesn't make mistakes. It knows what you need."
Julian nodded, though he still looked hopeful for something specific. He turned back to me, his lesson clearly winding down. "So that's how Terra works, Quin. Three races, five kingdoms, mana cores that awaken at nine, warriors and mages, stars and circles, elemental affinities. When you're older and you awaken, you'll understand it all better. But for now, you just need to know that our family serves King Klaus, and we're warriors of the Stellis Kingdom."
"Warrior," I repeated, making my voice small and awed. "Like Julian!"
His face split into a huge grin. "Yeah! Like me! We'll both be warriors someday. I'll awaken next year when I turn nine, and then in seven years, you'll awaken too! And then we can train together for real!"
Seven years.
Seven years of being trapped in a child's body, waiting for this world to decide I was old enough to access power.
Absolutely not.
I clapped my hands and giggled, playing the adorable little brother. "Julian strong! Quin strong too!"
"You'll definitely be strong," Julian said, ruffling my hair with the confidence of an older brother. "You're a Baker. All Bakers are strong."
Juan pushed off from the doorframe, walking over to us. He knelt down, his imposing presence somehow gentle as he looked at both his sons. "Julian, you explained well. You'll make a good teacher someday."
Julian beamed under the praise.
Juan's black eyes shifted to me, and I felt the weight of his attention. This man was a seven star warrior, one of the strongest in the kingdom. Even sitting here playing the toddler, I could feel the power that radiated from him. It wasn't threatening, but it was undeniable.
"And Quin," he said, his voice softer, "one day you'll understand all of this. One day you'll awaken your mana core and begin your own path. The Baker legacy will continue through both of you."
I looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "Path?"
"Your journey," he said. "Your story. Every warrior has one. Every person who awakens has a story to tell. Yours will be great, I'm certain of it."
If only he knew how right he was. If only any of them knew what was actually going through my mind as I sat there in my toddler body, absorbing every piece of information like a sponge.
Lillian stood from her chair, walking over to join us. She scooped me up with practiced ease, settling me on her hip. "That's enough lessons for one day, I think. Quin needs his nap."
I didn't need a nap. My mind was racing too fast for sleep. But I let my body go limp in her arms, playing the part. Always playing the part.
As Lillian carried me from the library, I looked back over her shoulder at the map still spread on the floor, at Julian already putting the wooden figures away, at Juan watching his sons with that expression of paternal pride.
They thought they knew what my future held. They thought I'd awaken at nine like everyone else, discover my path like everyone else, follow the rules like everyone else.
They were wrong.
That night, long after everyone had gone to sleep, I lay in my crib staring at the ceiling. The house was quiet except for the distant sound of wind against stone walls. Moonlight filtered through the window, casting silver shadows across my room.
My room. It was strange to think of it that way. In my past life, I'd had a room. A normal room in a normal house in a normal world. Posters on the walls of anime characters. A computer desk cluttered with manga. A bed that was too small because I'd grown faster than my parents replaced furniture.
This room was different. Stone walls hung with tapestries. A wooden crib that would be replaced with a proper bed soon. Toys carved from wood instead of plastic. A window that looked out over grounds that belonged to a noble estate.
I pushed myself up, my toddler body protesting the movement but obeying. I'd been practicing this, late at night when no one was watching. Testing my limitations. Learning what this body could do.
My mind wandered back to Julian's lesson, to everything I'd learned about this world.
Terra. Three races. Five kingdoms. Mana cores that awakened at nine.
Warriors and Mages. Stars and Circles. Elemental affinities.
All of it bound by rules. Structured. Predictable.
And I hated predictable.
In my past life, I'd been trapped by expectations. The good kid. The hero. The one who always did the right thing. I'd helped people not because I cared but because I wanted to be noticed, to be special, to matter in a world where nothing I did actually mattered.
I'd died chasing that spotlight, throwing myself in front of a truck for a dramatic moment that would be forgotten in a week.
But this? This was different. This was a world where being special wasn't just a fantasy. Magic was real. Power was real. The ability to transcend human limitations was built into the fabric of reality.
I could be the protagonist here. Not just play at it, but actually become it.
But not by following the rules.
Julian would awaken at nine. He'd become a warrior, locked to the path of the sword, probably with one or two elemental affinities if he was lucky. He'd train and grow stronger, working his way up through the star ranks, maybe reaching five star if he was talented, maybe higher if he was exceptional.
He'd be special by this world's standards. A success. A source of pride for the Baker family.
And he'd be completely predictable.
I wouldn't make that mistake.
I climbed out of my crib, my movements still clumsy but improving with practice. My feet hit the cold stone floor, and I padded over to the window. I had to stretch to reach the sill, but I managed to pull myself up enough to look out.
The Baker estate spread before me in the moonlight. Training grounds where I'd watched Juan and Julian practice with wooden swords. Gardens where Lillian grew herbs for her magical studies. Walls that marked the boundaries of our lands. And beyond that, the kingdom of Stellis, and beyond that, all of Terra.
A whole world. A world with magic and power and endless possibilities.
And I had seven years before I was supposed to access any of it.
No. Absolutely not.
I'd spent two years in this body learning to walk and talk and pretend to be a normal child. Two years observing, listening, gathering information. I'd been patient because I had no choice, because a baby couldn't do anything else.
But now I knew the rules. I understood the system. And I could start breaking it.
Warriors and Mages. Two paths. Mutually exclusive, according to everything Julian had said. Your body's composition determined which path you walked, and once chosen, that was it. Warriors enhanced their bodies. Mages cast spells. Pick one.
Why?
That was the question nobody seemed to ask. Why couldn't someone do both? Was it truly impossible, or just unprecedented? Was the limitation real, or just accepted wisdom that nobody challenged?
In my past life, I'd read hundreds of stories where the protagonist broke through limitations everyone else accepted. The cultivation novels where the hero found a forbidden technique. The isekai manga where the main character discovered a unique skill. The fantasy webnovels where the chosen one exceeded all expectations.
I wasn't the chosen one. I hadn't been isekaied with a cheat skill. There was no system floating in my vision granting me special abilities.
But I had something better. I had knowledge from a world that understood these tropes. I had an adult mind in a child's body. I had time, resources, and a burning determination to be extraordinary.
And I had a mana core. Somewhere inside this toddler body, there was a core of power waiting to awaken. Everyone had one. Julian had said so. It awakened at nine years old naturally.
But what if it could be awakened earlier? What if the age limit was just because nobody tried hard enough, because children didn't have the knowledge or discipline to access their power prematurely?
I wasn't a normal child.
I closed my eyes, pressing my small hand to my chest where Julian had indicated the mana core resided. I couldn't feel anything yet. No pulse of energy. No sense of power waiting to be unlocked.
But it was there. It had to be there.
And I would find it.
Seven years until natural awakening? I'd do it in five. Maybe less. I'd awaken my mana core through sheer force of will and knowledge that this world didn't have.
And when I did awaken, I wouldn't accept the path my body chose for me. Warrior or Mage? I'd be both. The system said I had to choose? I'd break the system.
Elemental affinities locked me into one, two, or three elements? I'd find a way around that too. If legendary heroes could manage three elements, then I'd surpass that. Four. Five. All of them if possible.
The rules of this world were not my rules. The limitations of Terra were not my limitations.
I'd wanted to be special in my past life, wanted it so desperately that I'd died for a moment of recognition that meant nothing. But that was then. That was Leo, the faker, the boy who played hero without understanding what it meant.
I was Quin now. Quin Baker, second son of a powerful warrior family, born into a world where magic was real and power was attainable.
And I would seize every scrap of it.
Not for recognition this time. Not for gratitude or praise or to be called a good person. I'd had enough of that hollow validation.
This time, I'd do it for real. I'd become powerful because power mattered in this world. I'd become extraordinary because ordinary was a cage I'd already escaped once.
I'd become the protagonist that I'd always dreamed of being, not through fate or destiny or being chosen, but through pure determination and refusal to accept limitations.
A sound in the hallway made me freeze. Footsteps. Light ones. Probably Lillian checking on me.
I scrambled back to my crib as quietly as possible, climbing in and arranging myself in a sleeping position just as the door creaked open. Soft light from a candle spilled across the floor.
Lillian's silhouette appeared in the doorway. She stood there for a long moment, just watching. I kept my breathing even and slow, eyes closed, the picture of innocent sleep.
After what felt like an eternity, she closed the door again. Her footsteps faded down the hallway.
I opened my eyes, staring at the ceiling once more.
That was close. I needed to be more careful. Couldn't let them suspect that their baby son was actually a reincarnated teenager with grand ambitions and dangerous plans.
The adorable brother act had to be perfect. Flawless. Unquestionable.
Let them think I was a normal toddler. Let Julian believe he was teaching his cute little brother about the world. Let Juan and Lillian see a promising child who would grow up to serve the family with honor.
Behind that mask, I'd be working. Training. Pushing the limits of what this body could do. Searching for my mana core years before I was supposed to find it.
I'd play their game until I was strong enough to play my own.
Julian expected to awaken next year. He'd become a warrior, start his training officially, begin walking the path the family expected of him.
And I'd be watching, learning, stealing every technique and trick I could observe. By the time my official awakening was supposed to happen, I'd already be years ahead.
A thought occurred to me, something that made my lips curve into a smile in the darkness.
In my past life, I'd saved people because I wanted to be seen as a hero. I'd fought bullies and helped the weak because I craved recognition. It had all been performance, hollow actions in pursuit of a role that meant nothing.
But here? In this world? Power wasn't about recognition. It was about survival. About advancement. About carving out your place in a world where strength determined everything from political influence to personal freedom.
Here, pursuing power wasn't selfish. It was necessary.
I didn't have to pretend to be good anymore. I didn't have to play the hero. I could focus purely on becoming strong, and that focus would be its own reward.
Maybe that made me selfish. Maybe it made me ambitious to the point of arrogance.
I didn't care.
I'd died once already. I'd been given a second chance in a world that operated on rules completely different from my first life. If I didn't take advantage of that, if I didn't push every boundary and break every limitation, then what was the point?
The moonlight shifted across my ceiling as clouds passed overhead. Somewhere in the distance, I heard the call of some bird I didn't recognize. Sounds of Terra, my new world.
Tomorrow I'd wake up and be Quin the adorable toddler. I'd stumble around and say cute things and let Julian teach me how to hold a wooden sword. I'd let Lillian fuss over me and Juan pat my head with fatherly affection.
But at night, in the quiet hours when everyone slept, I'd be something else.
I'd be the anomaly this world didn't know was coming.
I'd be the protagonist I'd always wanted to be.
And this time, I'd earn it.
My eyes finally grew heavy, exhaustion from pushing my toddler body catching up with my racing mind. As I drifted toward sleep, one final thought crystallized with perfect clarity.
This world gave me magic. Now I'd show them what a real main character could do.