"What's… this feeling…?"
Armon was floating in endless darkness, as if there was weight pressing down on him. He felt nothing—only the vast, empty void. He lifted one arm, as if trying to grab something.
"A knife… blood… the first kill… and even the last kill…"
Armon saw all of his memories: the knife he grabbed during childhood, the blood he saw on the ground, the first time he killed someone, and finally the last kill—when Franz was struck by the dart.
"I-I didn't want to become like this…"
Armon reflected on his past. He had once been an overprotective brother, but then the war happened. The Holy Empire was the source of it all. His family died, and he was turned into a slave, forced to work until death.
Armon had been an innocent child during his early years, but after his family died in the war, he became ruthless.
"I-I'm almost there… I'll kill those bastards!"
Fury surged through him as he clenched his fists. But soon, he calmed down and stared once more into the endless darkness.
"I… want to see my family now…"
As he floated in the darkness, he saw a light. Within it were shadows—his family: his mother, his father, and his sister.
Armon cried out loudly, calling for his mother as he tried to reach them.
"Mother!"
A bright flash followed, along with the sound of crying. Armon looked at his hand reaching toward the woman in front of him—but instead of a scarred arm, it was small and pale, like that of a baby.
"W-Why is my arm so small? T-Then why am I crying!? And who is this woman in front of me? She's so big!?"
Armon realized he had become a baby, born into a wealthy family. His room looked noble, filled with shining objects. The woman before him had blonde hair and the appearance of a noble.
"Why is there an aristocrat in front of me?"
Armon couldn't speak; all these thoughts raced through his mind. The woman looked excited, smiling warmly at him.
"I can't believe you said your first word—mommy!"
Armon continued crying, unable to control himself. The woman gently stroked his hand to comfort him, but she was different from anyone he had known before.
A magic circle appeared on her hand, like something from a fantasy.
"W-What is that!? Witchcraft!?"
The woman chanted words Armon couldn't understand. Instead of pain, the magic felt calm, soothing his mind.
"Baby, baby, don't cry. Mommy will hold you~"
Her gentle words overwhelmed him, and his eyes slowly began to close.
"I-I can't handle this… yawn I'm going to sleep…"
The woman stood up as the door opened. A knight entered—it was Armon's new father.
"How is Amon doing?"
Armon's name from Earth was now replaced with Amon in this world. The woman smiled and replied cheerfully.
"He's healthy and strong. He even said 'mommy' for the first time! He's destined to become a mage in the future!"
She looked happy, but the father frowned slightly and clenched his fist.
"He will become a knight."
The woman's expression darkened, anger flashing in her eyes.
"He will become the greatest mage, and you can't change that!"
The confident husband laughed mockingly, insisting that the child would become the greatest knight.
A storm swept across the land. Armon knelt in the rain, blood covering his hands as the downpour washed it away. He looked at the ground where his family had been killed by the Empire. The surroundings were destroyed—burned and looted. He cried with all his strength.
Then he heard a voice in his ears, and he knew this was a dream.
"Baby, baby, don't cry. Mommy will hold you~"
As soon as Armon heard it, he gently opened his eyes and saw the woman again, believing he was still dreaming.
"Good morning, Amon~"
Amon raised his eyebrows upon hearing the name.
"How does she know my name!?"
But he soon noticed a slight difference.
"My name was Armon… not Amon…"
He lifted his arm and tried to grab the woman's face as she carried him, but instead, his hand grabbed something soft—and it wasn't her face.
"Ah, you're hungry Amon?~"
He froze, realizing he had unintentionally grabbed her chest. He still couldn't speak—it seemed he truly had become a baby after dying.
"Auhhhee~ auhhee~"
Concern spread across the woman's face. Then she realized something and loosened her clothes so the baby could drink milk. She gently guided Amon to her breast.
Amon didn't want this in his thoughts, but his instincts as a baby took over, as if even his mind was becoming that of an infant.
"Oh, Amon, you're hungry~ Drink my milk so you can become the strongest mage sooner!"
As Amon breastfed, his thoughts lingered on one thing—
She might truly be his mother.