The world was noise.
Loud, endless noise. Cries, voices, the rhythmic beeping of strange machines. For someone who once silenced empires with a glance, it was maddening. His body felt unbearably small, frail, a prison more confining than chains of divine steel. He tried to move but only managed a weak twitch. His throat ached, and instead of words, all that escaped was a shrill cry.
Pathetic.
In his past life, even gods had trembled before him. Now? He was nothing more than a wailing infant.
So this is rebirth? he thought bitterly. The universe has a cruel sense of humor.
Through the blur of half-formed vision, vague shapes loomed above him. One drew closer. A woman—her face wet with tears, her eyes glowing with relief and joy. She pressed him against her chest, and warmth enveloped him.
The warmth startled him.
Not the warmth of blood on a battlefield. Not the burning heat of celestial fire. But something softer. Something that seeped into his fragile bones, calming the storm within.
He blinked slowly. The woman's arms trembled as she held him tighter, her voice breaking.
"My baby… my son…"
Her tone was drenched in affection, in a love he could not remember ever receiving. No calculation. No fear. No hidden intent.
His heart, which had never softened for anyone, stirred faintly.
Another figure appeared at her side—a man, tall, his suit immaculate even in the sterile chaos of the delivery room. Broad shoulders, a sharp jaw, eyes that held authority. He wasn't weeping like the woman, but his lips quivered as he reached out a hand. It rested awkwardly on the woman's shoulder, then hesitated before brushing the infant's tiny head.
The man's voice was low, gruff from emotions he clearly wasn't used to showing.
"He's… perfect."
The emperor-turned-baby studied him. That tone—restrained, dignified, yet trembling beneath—reminded him of generals who once pledged their lives to him. Yet unlike them, this man's gaze carried no rivalry, no hunger for power. It was pride. Pride, and… something else.
Belonging.
The realization left him strangely off balance.
His blurred eyes traced the surroundings—the shining instruments, the expensive monitors, the pristine uniforms of the nurses. This was no common birth. The walls gleamed with sterile white, but the accents of gold trim on the equipment whispered of wealth. Even the air smelled of money, if such a thing were possible.
So this was his new world. This was his beginning. Born not in a war camp, nor in a palace soaked with suspicion, but in a place of luxury. A billionaire's heir.
Irony, perhaps, was another of the universe's jokes.
He tried to scoff, but his mouth betrayed him, releasing only another infant's cry. The woman laughed through her tears, mistaking the sound for need. She hushed him gently, rocking him with a tenderness that silenced even his protests.
Something within him shifted, unfamiliar and disarming.
He remembered his throne of stone, cold beneath him as countless courtiers bowed with masks on their faces. He remembered the silence when he entered a room, the way laughter died in throats and eyes darted away. No one had ever looked at him without calculation. No one had ever held him without hesitation.
And now, in this fragile body, in this strange world, he was being embraced with warmth so raw it almost hurt.
His breath slowed. Against his will, his tiny hand curled, gripping the fabric of her gown.
For the first time, he felt… safe.
The moments stretched on. The nurses moved around them, whispering instructions, checking charts. The man—his father, he realized with a mix of shock and disbelief—stepped aside to speak with a doctor. The woman—his mother—never let go. Her tears had dried, but her smile remained, radiant as she rocked him gently.
Then, just for an instant, the lights flickered.
The bulbs overhead dimmed, then flared, before steadying again. None of the staff seemed to notice, too absorbed in their tasks. Only the man glanced up briefly, his brows tightening, before dismissing it.
The infant emperor noticed.
That… was me?
The thought was fleeting, drowned quickly beneath the pull of exhaustion. He tried to focus, to measure the flow of energy he once commanded, but his tiny body betrayed him. His eyelids grew heavy. His breaths came slow and shallow.
And then warmth pulled him back again. His mother's heartbeat echoed faintly against his cheek, steady, unyielding. He had never leaned on another heartbeat before. He had never wanted to.
Yet now…
His vision blurred again, not from weakness, but from something he couldn't name. Something he had never allowed himself to feel.
This was different.
No throne, no empire, no army. Just the embrace of a woman who loved him without knowing who—or what—he truly was.
His lips parted, but no curses left them. Only a faint, content sigh, lost beneath the quiet hum of machines.
For the first time, he did not feel the crushing weight of solitude.
And so, the man once feared as the loneliest emperor of all worlds surrendered to the pull of sleep, cradled in a warmth he had never known.
The lights above hummed steadily once more.
The universe had given him no rest, no oblivion.
But perhaps, it had given him something else.
End of Chapter 2