Sunlight streamed through the cottage window, painting the wooden floor with streaks of gold. A warm breeze slipped past the shutters, carrying the faint scent of blossoms from the forest beyond.
The light touched the infant's face, illuminating soft skin and strands of dark hair streaked with blue. From the outside, he was no different from any other child cradled in his mother's care. Yet behind those bright, unblinking eyes lay the soul of Kane Brawn.
Now he bore a new name: Tyberius Freeman.
'Damn it…'
Two months had passed since his rebirth, and the dissonance between body and spirit tormented him daily.
The once-renowned Swordsman, last survivor of a fallen world was trapped in the fragile shell of an infant. Every gurgle, every stumble of his tiny limbs was a reminder of his helplessness. And with that helplessness came rage.
Rage at his weakness.
Rage at his delay.
Rage at the god who had engineered it all.
Kaiden.
The name seared through his mind like molten iron. The architect of Gaia's destruction, murderer of his kin, desecrator of his planet. The face Kane had sworn to carve into oblivion.
Now, as Tyberius, he carried that vow across worlds.
'I will kill him,' he promised in silence, his tiny fists clenching as his mother rocked him gently. 'If it is the last thing I do, I will cut Kaiden down.'
But vengeance demanded strength, and strength required time. For now, time was the one thing he had in abundance.
---
A Sword Reborn
---
Tyberius willed open the familiar screen.
Tyberius Freeman
[Pathway]: Warrior (Swordsman)
[Innate Skill]: Sword of Scripture (Unawakened)
The status shimmered faintly before fading. He exhaled, satisfied.
Though stripped of his hardened stats and the raw power he once commanded, one thing remained constant, the Sword of Scripture. His bond with that skill had not perished alongside his former body. It was the anchor tethering him to hope.
Ten volume of scripture, each a revelation of strength. With every page, his blade had once carved paths through enemies like a storm across grass. The fourth volume, Iron Oath, had even scarred Kaiden's clothing, a feat unthinkable for any mortal. If given time, if he could climb from page one once more, he could surpass even that fleeting moment.
His jaw clenched at the memory. The look on Kaiden's face when he drew blood, it proved the god could bleed. And if he could bleed, he could die.
But to start, Tyberius needed the first volume again.
Back on Gaia, the awakening had come under the shadow of death, when despair and clarity merged in one crucible of survival. But here in Thyrennor, swaddled in his mother's arms, life and death seemed distant. The peril he once courted daily was gone. For now, patience would have to suffice.
---
Eavesdropping Infant
---
If his infant body denied him the sword, it granted him another weapon, listening. His mother, Melinda, was prone to speaking aloud while tending to chores or nursing him. A habit born of loneliness, perhaps. To Tyberius, it was invaluable.
Through her mutterings, he pieced together fragments of this world.
Melinda Freeman, once a palace maid, had caught the fleeting eye of King Adonis Freeman, fifth king of the kingdom of Valeria.
A single night had sired Tyberius. Were it not for the unmistakable trait of the Freeman line, strands of dark ocean-blue hair woven into his otherwise black locks, he might have been discarded. Instead, Melinda was elevated to concubine, the fifteenth among many.
Tyberius still reeled at that number.
'Fifteenth concubine,' he mused bitterly. 'That king needs to leash his loins.'
The thought almost drew laughter, but the truth was sobering. While Adonis indulged, his queen seethed. Many concubines had been cast from the palace, stripped of titles, left to ruin. Yet Melinda was spared. Perhaps luck. Perhaps the faint royal hue in her son's hair.
Their exile to a secluded cottage within the palace grounds, miles from the throne's suffocating politics, was a blessing in disguise. The further Tyberius was from noble intrigue, the freer his path toward vengeance remained. He needed no crowns, no titles. Only strength.
---
The Wider World
---
More whispers came from his mother's tongue. Complaints of supply delays, gossip of envoys, murmurs of kings. Piece by piece, a map formed in his mind.
Valeria, his birthplace, was but one kingdom within the Kahrindral Confederation, a vast coalition of five powers.
Alongside Valeria stood Thalvurne in the east, ruled by King Augustus Throvan. North rose the crowned state of Khorvale. To the west stretched the Sylthrone Monarchy. At the center, the Lumeris Order, a zealous faith with influence that spread like wildfire.
Five figureheads, bound in tenuous balance, standing against two other world-spanning forces in the realm of Aldrion: the Empire and the Dynasty.
So many banners. So many rulers. To Tyberius, they were noise.
These names might have daunted a lesser man, but to him they were nothing more than scenery along his road. Kings, queens, empires, orders, all distractions from the singular truth: Kaiden still lived.
And until Kaiden fell, nothing else mattered.
---
Vow of Steel
---
His tiny hand curled tightly around his mother's finger, but in his heart it gripped a sword.
'Kaiden will die,' he swore silently, eyes burning with a fire no infant should possess. 'Limb by limb, I will sever him. I will watch him writhe, and I will not falter.'
The words etched themselves deeper than mere thought. They became oath, ironclad and unyielding. Neither the passing of years, nor the shifting of kingdoms, nor even the temptations of power would sway him. His resolve was a blade plunged into stone, immovable, eternal.
Reincarnation had gifted him time, but not reprieve. His life was no longer his own, it was a weapon forged for one purpose.
Kaiden's death.
Sunlight touched his face once more, warm and gentle, almost mocking. Tyberius closed his eyes. For now, he would bide. For now, he would grow. But one day, the god would pay.
On that day, the child of two worlds would rise as executioner.
And Kaiden's eternity would end.