Even in sleep, my mind never rested.
The world of dreams was malleable, pliant to the will of a mind that had walked through multiple lives. Tonight, the visions came again—patterns of light, energy flows, and symbols that twisted and coiled like serpents. Ancient runes, glowing faintly, danced across the darkness.
I reached for them instinctively. My tiny fingers grasped at the air, yet I felt each one imprint on my soul. Knowledge, technique, understanding—everything I had ever learned in my previous lives surged forward.
Weapons of steel and fire. Swords that could cut through dimensions. Magic that bent the very essence of the world. And most of all, runes. Runes that spoke in a language beyond mortal comprehension, yet whispered their secrets clearly to me.
I traced them in the air, imagining their lines engraved upon my body. Each one a channel, a bridge, a source of power. My heart, even in this infant body, beat with anticipation.
I woke in a start, small hands curled into fists, sweat damp on my brow. The visions lingered. The patterns of energy burned behind my eyelids. Already, I could sense the resonance forming within me. A power unique. A system that could bind mana, qi, aether, and nature energy into a single, harmonious force.
The world outside my crib remained quiet. Servants moved in hushed tones, unaware that the child they watched slept with the weight of countless lifetimes resting upon him.
But even as I contemplated, a faint voice in the dream whispered—
"You are not just reborn… you are destined to rule. To build. To destroy and remake."
I smiled. Not a smile of childish innocence, but a predator's smile. A plan had already formed in my mind. This world, fragile and flawed, would become mine. And it would be shaped according to my vision, my understanding, my will.
One day, I would engrave my first rune in flesh. One day, I would wield knowledge no mortal or god had ever possessed. And one day, those who had oppressed, enslaved, and betrayed the people of Dicathen would pay.
But first… patience. Observation. Preparation.
Even in dreams, even in infancy, the Heavenly Monarch began his work.
And the first of many shadows—the children who would become my allies, my generals, my family—were already stirring in the streets outside, waiting to be found, waiting to be forged into something greater than the sum of their suffering.
The world had begun its reckoning. And I, though small, was already ready.