What went wrong…?
I couldn't seem to wrap my head around it.
Was I killed…?
No, it could not be… could it?
It was all so unreal, yet the sharp, tearing pain of my neck being pierced by a dull blade—dragged across with no mercy—was the last thing I felt before everything turned upside down and my entire world collapsed into nothingness.
Could it have been real? Truly real?
Zhang Feng found himself drowning in a void of pure darkness—an endless, suffocating expanse where time ceased to have meaning. He could not move, nor could he hear even the faintest whisper of sound. The stillness was maddening, enough to make him wonder if this was a dream… or something far worse.
Minutes? Hours? Days? He had no idea.
Time stretched on until it felt like eternity itself.
Only after what seemed like a lifetime did Zhang feel something—his own body tightening, shrinking, curling in on itself. An uncomfortable pressure gripped him from every angle, and when he managed the slightest movement, it hurt… yet somehow, the discomfort also gave a strange, satisfying confirmation that he was still alive.
Then suddenly…
[Welcome Zhang Feng]
[You have successfully met with the requirements]
[Killed by a Novel Character ✓]
[Welcome to the Author's POV of a Novel World]
Zhang's confusion exploded into chaos.
'The Author's POV? What in the world does that mean?'
Before he could even attempt to process the bizarre notifications, the oppressive darkness around him brightened until it became almost blinding. His body jerked slightly, and he felt—shockingly—that he could move again.
But not as normal.
His limbs were weak, soft, floppy. His vision blurry like he was underwater.
A strange, uncontrollable sensation rose in his tiny chest, and the next thing he knew—
He was crying.
Not figuratively Nor emotionally.
Literally crying like a newborn baby.
Zhang Feng froze. Or rather, his baby body twitched in confusion. 'No way… don't tell me—did I really—?'
The ceiling above him shifted, spinning slightly. At first he thought the world was tilting, but he quickly realized it wasn't the ceiling that moved—it was him, being lifted by a pair of gentle but worn hands.
A midwife.
Dressed in the traditional black uniform of midwives, the old woman—perhaps in her early fifties—held him securely. Her expression was professional, almost indifferent, as she approached the woman lying exhausted on the bed.
Zhang's supposed mother.
The midwife bowed her head respectfully and handed Little Zhang over before speaking in a strange, ancient language—nothing close to English, and nothing Zhang had ever heard in any country he visited.
This alarmed him more than the fact that he had been reincarnated.
Being reborn wasn't the shocking part; he had written several stories with similar tropes. But hearing this ancient, unfamiliar language…
'Just where on earth—or off earth—have I been born?'
His mother, a woman with long red hair and surprisingly striking features, lifted him closer. Even drained of strength, she looked both elegant and fierce. A prominent scar cut across the skin below her left eye, yet it didn't diminish her beauty—it amplified it, giving her a warrior-like presence.
She gently brushed the tiny red strands of hair on his infant head.
Zhang tried to study her expression, hoping to decode her words through emotion alone, but it was useless. Everything she said sounded like incomprehensible gibberish. He quickly realized that learning this language would take far more time than he expected.
Then she shifted her hold on him, and something caught Zhang's eye—another baby had been placed beside her. A newborn, small and red-haired… looking very similar to him. His twin.
Zhang blinked, shocked. 'A twin…? I have a twin? Seriously?'
He stared straight into the baby's eyes, hoping—praying—it would be a girl. The thought hit him late, but violently:
'Wait… what about me? Am I still a boy? Or did I reincarnate as a girl?!'
He barely had time to panic about his new gender before another person lifted him from his mother's arms.
This time it was a man.
A tall, strong-looking man dressed in far better clothing than the midwife—likely someone of rank, authority… perhaps a noble. Probably the father of these two newborns.
He looked genuinely thrilled, his face lighting up as he lifted Zhang higher into the air. He bounced him lightly, speaking excitedly in the same ancient tongue, ranting joyfully while his eyes sparkled with pride.
He turned to the mother and midwife, their conversation continuing for a short moment.
Then—
A green notification shimmered before Zhang's eyes.
This one was in English.
[You have successfully received a name]
[Name: Arthur Castagir]
[You have received your first skill]
Zhang could only read the first line before his undeveloped baby vision blurred the rest into unreadable shapes. His small brain felt like it was about to overheat. The moment he saw his name—Arthur Castagir—his body immediately felt heavy and drained.
L
The midwife's voice suddenly shifted, becoming clearer, as though some kind of translation or adaptation effect was activating in his newborn mind.
"You gave birth to two babies. This is very good news, Lady Castagir…"
Zhang strained to listen, but before he could make out more, his eyelids drooped uncontrollably. Exhaustion swept over him like a flood, and he realized one harsh truth about his new life:
The weakness of being a baby was no joke.
His endurance was almost nonexistent.
As his consciousness faded, his final thoughts drifted back to that moment of death, the blade, the impossible reality of reincarnating…
'So I really… died. And now I'm reborn in a completely different world.'
Without another moment to spare, Zhang Feng—now Arthur Castagir—slipped into unconsciousness.