The Silver Blizzard Domain was burning, and the silence was terrifying.
There were no screams of panic, only the military efficiency of the Garou warriors moving through the scorched courtyards. Their frost-forged armor clashed rhythmically—a sound of discipline, not fear.
"Suppression formation!" barked a lieutenant. "No Spirit Water, you idiots! That damn flame eats Energy! Bring the Void Blankets!"
A column of bluish-white fire consumed the guest annex. It emitted a heat that could be felt from afar, distorting the freezing air. It burned in silence, devouring the structures that appeared in its path, leaving behind no ash, only emptiness.
"By the Ancestors..." murmured a guard as he passed. "Young Master Zarek had another... 'accident'."
A hundred meters from the disaster, a small child sat on the garden steps. Zarek. Six years old. Heir to the Clan. And currently, the palace's greatest security threat.
His white silk robe was stained with soot. His silver hair, the symbol of Garou royalty, was marred by a rebellious streak of jet black—the mark of his human impurity. His wolf ears were flattened against his skull in a sign of defeat.
He raised a small, chubby hand. On the tip of his index finger, a tiny white flame danced, mocking him.
Shit.
He closed his fist, snuffing out the flame. His thirty-something mind, trapped in this preschool body, seethed with frustration.
Six years. Six years in this nightmare isekai, and I remain a ticking time bomb. It wasn't incompetence. It was biology. His human part (his unknown father). His Demon part (Garou). They formed a civil war inside his body that he had never asked for.
"Young Master?"
Lyna, his Kitsune clan attendant, appeared at his side. Her slanted eyes were filled with that motherly pity that made Zarek want to vomit. She gently wiped his cheek with a damp cloth.
"I didn't mean to, Lyna," Zarek said, forcing his voice into a high-pitched child's tone. He hated how it sounded.
"I know, Young Master," she smiled, her fox tails wagging softly. "To be born with such destructive power... is proof that the Heavens have big plans for you!"
Zarek nodded mechanically. Sure. Big plans. And next you'll tell me I'm the protagonist of this world and that the power of friendship fixes everything. Please.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The ground vibrated. Captain Grak was approaching. A two-meter giant covered in scars who treated Zarek as if he were made of glass.
"Young Master," Grak grunted, trying to soften his voice, which made his tone sound ridiculously high-pitched for a war wolf. "Sovereign Nyxia summons you."
Two guards stepped between Zarek and the burning building, blocking the view. As if seeing the fire might traumatize the child who had caused it. Zarek suppressed a sigh, dusted the soot off his robe, and walked toward the throne room.
The Throne Room was at the far end of the complex. The presence of the woman sitting on the throne of ice generated a pressure that made the air vibrate. Nyxia Frost. The She-Wolf of the Blizzard. Level 4: Grand Lord.
Zarek entered, feeling his mother's spiritual pressure prickle the hair on the back of his neck. She didn't even look up from the beast-skin scrolls she was reviewing.
"Zarek, pup," her voice was soft, yet it filled the immense hall. "I heard you remodeled the guest annex. Again."
"Mother, I... the energy overflowed."
Nyxia finally looked up. Her eyes were liquid gold, predatory and amused.
"That is the third time this month. The clan's treasury is going to suffer if you keep 'practicing' on our architecture."
"I'm sorry. I'll try to control it."
"Control it?" Nyxia let out a laugh that sounded like ice shattering. "Nonsense! You are a Frost. Violence is in your blood. Don't repress the beast, Zarek. Let it run."
She rose, a tower of lethal elegance, and lifted Zarek off the ground with a single hand, as if he were a rag doll. She hugged him against her chest, a gesture of affection that would have crushed a normal human's ribs.
"Your mixed blood makes you unstable, yes. But chaos is only a weakness if you fail to dominate it. You are my son. I trust you will learn to subdue it."
She released him and gave him a slap on the back that nearly sent him face-first into the floor.
"Now, go to my chambers. You've spent a lot of energy. You need to feed."
Zarek's ears burned with shame. Feed. Energy-enriched breast milk. At six years old. The ultimate humiliation for a former corporate salaryman.
"Yes, Mother," he murmured, retreating with what little dignity he had left.
That same night, after his mother had fed him, Zarek's body collapsed after he attempted to find a way to control his ethereal flame on his own.
He lay in his fur bed, but his insides were burning. The friction between his lineages had become unbearable.
Zarek closed his eyes, feeling his consciousness fraying. Is this it? Am I going to die again? Game Over at six years old?
The darkness in his mind stirred. It wasn't the void of sleep. It was something denser. Structured. A digital sound, crisp and alien to this world of swords and magic, resonated in his skull.
[Ding.]
Zarek's eyes snapped open in the dark.
[Transmigration Anomaly stabilized.][Power Source: Critical Soul Friction.][Initiating autonomous skill C E N I T...]
"What...?" whispered Zarek.
A voice answered. Not through his ears, but directly into his cerebral cortex. A cold, genderless, and terribly logical voice.
[Welcome, Host. I am the Cognitive Assistance Unit: CENIT.]
Before his eyes, lines of blue light formed in the air, building an interface Zarek hadn't seen in two lifetimes.
[Analyzing Host Status...][Race: Unstable Hybrid (Garou/Human).][Diagnosis: Imminent Energy Collapse.][Cause: Lineage Conflict. The energy passively absorbed by your Garou side is being violently rejected by the active defense of your Human side: the Ethereal Flame.]
"The flame..." Zarek thought, fear being replaced by a spark of adrenaline. "Do you know what it is?"
[Affirmative. It is not an error. It is a defense mechanism. Your human side is attempting to "purify" the intruding demonic energy, causing a volatile reaction.][Probability of survival without intervention: 0.04%.][Estimated time to core detonation: 3 years.]
Silence filled the room. Zarek sat up, his heart hammering against his ribs.
"Give me a solution, Cenit. I didn't die and reincarnate just to explode like a cheap firework."
The blue lights flickered, processing data at an impossible speed.
[Request received.][We cannot stop the war inside you. But we can search for a way to balance your lineages.][Proposal found: Lineage Balancing Protocol.][Do you wish to proceed with the simulation?]
Zarek looked at the blue window floating in the feudal darkness. A slow, predatory, and very adult smile curved the six-year-old's lips.
"Do it."