He woke up in a tiny body.
His eyes opened with difficulty, as if his eyelids weighed too much.
The world was blurry, enormous, and painfully bright.
It was… uncomfortable.
Arms too short.
Neck too weak.
He tried to move — and realized even that was a struggle.
Great, he thought. Starting a second life with complete helplessness.
He wanted to say something.
Anything.
A single word.
But before the thought could fully form, a window flashed right in front of his eyes.
It was blood-red.
[INTEGRATION OF THE "ANTI-GOD" SYSTEM COMPLETED]
Host: Charles (no surname)
Status: Alive (Second Chance)
World: Eternia
Threat Level: High
Automatic translation to current language: completed
He blinked.
The window didn't disappear.
The next line appeared almost mockingly.
[Incoming Message from Lucifer]
"Well, welcome.
The system will give you everything you dreamed of: power, knowledge, and the chance to carve through monsters by the dozen.
But remember our deal — I'm watching.
Make this world interesting, or I'll set up your own personal branch of hell right here."
Charles mentally exhaled.
He wasn't joking. Not even a little.
A new window blinked.
Current Task:
Get on all fours.
Reward:
None
You're just a baby, — the note added. Why would you need a reward right now?
Charles's face took on the only expression possible.
A flat, deadpan stare.
Perfect. Even hell now has a sense of humor.
He mentally pushed the system aside.
Later.
I'll deal with it later.
Though he already knew — "later" wouldn't come so easily.
At that moment something inside him tightened.
His chest shuddered.
His throat constricted.
And he began to cry.
Not because he wanted to.
But because the body decided for him.
Footsteps.
Voices.
A face appeared above him.
A young woman.
Pale skin.
Eyes blue as a summer sky.
Light chestnut hair tied carelessly.
"Shh, shh…" she whispered.
He was lifted into her arms.
A man appeared beside her.
Dark short hair.
Strong, sturdy build.
Hands — rough, working hands.
Father, he noted automatically.
They smiled.
Laughed.
Squeezed him as if he were the most important being in the world.
Charles looked at them and felt something strange.
Not joy.
Not pain.
Something in between.
This is how it should have been, he thought.
This is what was taken from me in my previous life.
He allowed himself a second of weakness.
A second of peace.
Then his mind started working again.
Eternia.
High threat level.
Anti-God.
Damn it… he thought. Even in paradise they won't let me live quietly.
Time passed quickly.
Too quickly.
He learned to speak earlier than normal.
Then — to read.
His parents were amazed.
Proud.
They laughed, calling him a "miracle."
For him, it was… familiar.
Books became his habit.
First — children's fairy tale collections.
Then — city chronicles.
Later — textbooks that ordinary children were never allowed to touch.
He read slowly, thoughtfully.
Compared.
Memorized.
And little by little, the world of Eternia began to take shape in his mind.
⚔️ The Path of the Sword
Warriors here were not simply "strong people."
Their path was divided into stages:
Initial Stage — the body only begins to obey the will.
Strength, speed, reaction — everything is trained to the limit of an ordinary human.
Disciple — a warrior who has crossed the boundary of human possibility.
Bones stronger.
Muscles denser.
Wounds heal faster.
Master — one who has reached the physical limit of the body.
But beyond that came the real thing.
To rise higher, a second condition had to be fulfilled:
either perfect one technique to absolute mastery,
or experience enlightenment — most often on the brink of life and death.
And the strangest part…
The Path of the Sword was unique for every individual.
Mentors could only give a slight push —
but no one could walk the path for the disciple.
Charles smirked.
Cruel. And honest.
🔮 Magic and Circles
Mages followed a different path.
A magical core formed in their bodies.
It grew not from the number of spells —
but from understanding.
Minor Circle — the mage masters the basics of one element.
Mid Circle — deep understanding and versatility.
High Circle — absolute mastery of one magic.
And there was an unspoken rule:
You can become the strongest mage in the world
by mastering a single spell,
as long as you bring it to perfection.
But the world was not fair.
Every magic had a counter.
Fire — water.
Water — lightning.
Earth — wind.
Light — darkness.
And further — more complex.
Lava.
Blood.
Gravity.
Energy.
Space.
To master such aspects required enlightenment.
Rare.
Dangerous.
Often fatal.
It came:
either to geniuses,
or to those who stood between life and death.
Charles closed the book.
For the first time in a long while, he felt… fear.
Because the next page was a bestiary.
Monsters.
Real ones.
Not myths.
Not metaphors.
And at that moment memory struck.
Blood.
Screams.
Meaningless deaths.
I thought I had escaped it…
I thought in this life they wouldn't catch up to me…
His breathing faltered.
The book slipped from his hands.
The world darkened, as if an abyss had opened beneath his feet.
And then…
Somewhere beyond the room
Satan smiled.
He watched as the boy clutched the sheets.
As his calm cracked.
"No, no," he smirked. "You haven't escaped yourself at all."
"Charles?"
The door creaked.
Mother entered the room.
She sat beside him, gently took the book away, and stroked his head.
"You're reading for too long again," she said softly, with a light reproach.
"You need to go outside. Play. Just live."
He looked at her.
"You don't need to know everything in the world for us to love you," she added quietly.
"You're already our son. That's enough."
Something inside him trembled.
The abyss retreated.
And Satan… merely narrowed his eyes.
Interesting, he thought. Very interesting.