The bullet punched through Marcus Chen's throat at 3:47 AM.
Hot. Wet. Wrong.
Blood flooded his mouth. Copper taste, thick and choking. He tried to breathe. Couldn't. His lungs were drowning from the inside.
The alley spun. Concrete scraped against his back—rough, cold through his tactical vest. Boots pounded the pavement. THUD THUD THUD. His team. Shouting. Words he couldn't make out anymore.
"Man down! Man down!"
"Medic! GET A FUCKING MEDIC!"
Pressure on his neck. Someone's hands pressing hard. Too hard. Didn't matter. Too late. He knew it was too late.
The cold started in his chest. Spreading. Fingers going numb. Toes. His vision was tunneling—darkness eating the edges, creeping in.
Ten years. Ten fucking years of special forces and I got sloppy on a routine extraction.
Someone was leaning over him. Rodriguez. His spotter. The man's face was pale. Lips moving. Couldn't hear the words anymore. Just a ringing. High-pitched. Annoying.
Sorry, man. Tell Mom I—
The thought didn't finish.
Everything went black.
And then—
WAAAAAAHHHHH!
Screaming. High-pitched wailing that tore through his consciousness like a buzzsaw.
What the fuck?
Not his voice. Couldn't be. Too high. Too—
Light. Blinding white light stabbing into his eyes. He tried to close them. Couldn't control his eyelids properly. Everything was blurry. Shapes moving. Huge shapes. Like looking up at giants.
Hands grabbed him. Rough fabric against skin that felt too sensitive. Too raw. Everything was wrong. His body wasn't responding right.
"He's breathing!" A woman's voice. Young. Desperate. Shaking. "Thank the gods, he's breathing!"
Another voice. Older. Harsh. "Barely. Look at him—blue around the lips. Weak constitution. And the mother's dead. This one won't last the week."
Mother's dead?
Wait. His mother? What—
Marcus tried to lift his head. To see. His body jerked. Useless flailing. Baby movements.
Oh no.
Oh fuck no.
His arm waved in front of his face. Tiny. Chubby. Infant fingers spread wide.
I'm a baby. I'm a fucking baby.
Panic surged. He tried to speak. To scream. To do anything. All that came out was more wailing. Mindless infant crying he couldn't stop.
"Lena," the harsh voice continued. "You need to rest. The childbirth nearly killed you. You lost too much blood—"
"Let me see him." The young voice again. Softer now. But steel underneath. "Please. Let me hold my son."
Gentle hands lifted him. Different from the rough midwife's grip. These hands were careful. Trembling but warm.
A face swam into view. Blurry. Slowly focusing. Young—gods, so young. Sixteen at most. Brown hair plastered to her forehead with sweat. Brown eyes red and swollen from crying. Tear tracks on pale cheeks.
She was looking at him like he was the most precious thing in the world.
"Lena, the child is—"
"He's alive." The girl—Lena—pulled him against her chest. She smelled like sweat and blood and something floral. Cheap soap maybe. "He's breathing. That's enough."
"For now." The older woman sighed. Heavy. Tired. "But be realistic, girl. Look at him. Weak little thing. And you? You're in no shape to care for an infant. Not after what you just went through."
"I'll manage."
"The duke won't provide support. You know that." The midwife's voice was blunt. Matter-of-fact. "Bastards get nothing unless they prove themselves useful. And this one..." A pause. "I've delivered hundreds of babies, Lena. I know when they'll make it. This one's too weak."
Kael—no, Marcus—no, Kael now apparently—felt Lena's arms tighten around him.
"Get out." Lena's voice was quiet. Cold.
"What?"
"I said get out." Louder now. "Thank you for your help delivering him. But you can leave now."
Silence. Then footsteps. Angry stomping. STOMP STOMP STOMP. A door slammed. BANG. The sound echoed in the small room.
Kael's crying had reduced to whimpering. His infant body was exhausted. But his mind—his adult, reincarnated mind—was racing.
Okay. Okay. Processing. I died. Got shot. And now I'm... a baby. In a fantasy world apparently, based on all the 'duke' and 'gods' talk.
He'd read enough web novels during downtime. Isekai. Reincarnation. This was—this was actually happening.
Holy shit.
Lena was rocking him gently. Back and forth. Her chest rose and fell with deep, shaky breaths. She was trying not to cry.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. Her voice cracked. "I'm so sorry, little one. I tried. I tried to give you a better start than this. But you're here. You're alive. And I..." A sob broke through. "I'll keep you alive. I promise. I don't care what she says. You're mine and I'll protect you."
Kael wanted to tell her it was okay. That he didn't understand what was happening but he'd figure it out. That she didn't need to apologize for anything.
But he was an infant. All he could do was make weak mewling sounds.
This is going to suck.
And then—
Blue light flickered in his vision. Not external. Internal. Behind his eyes. In his mind.
[SYSTEM INITIALIZATION DETECTED]
Oh. Oh hell yes.
[SOVEREIGN'S ASCENSION SYSTEM ACTIVATING]
[HOST SYNCHRONIZATION IN PROGRESS...]
[3%... 15%... 31%... 47%...]
Information flooded in. Not painful exactly, but overwhelming. Memories that weren't his. Knowledge of a world he'd never seen. Language. Geography. History. Social structures.
Crimson Empire. Three continents. Magic and martial power. Seven great duchies ruling under an emperor.
Ashford Dukedom. Northern territories. Duke Aldric Ashford. Powerful. Ruthless. A warrior who'd killed hundreds. Maybe thousands.
Seven official wives. Twenty-seven legitimate children. All competing for favor. For resources. For the eventual inheritance.
And Lena? A servant girl. Kitchen maid. Sixteen years old. The duke had noticed her one night six months ago. Drunk after a victory celebration. One night. One mistake.
Now she had a baby. A bastard son. Unwanted. Worthless in the eyes of the clan.
Kael Ashford. That was his name now.
[SYNCHRONIZATION COMPLETE]
[WELCOME, KAEL ASHFORD]
[SOVEREIGN'S ASCENSION SYSTEM ACTIVATED]
Okay. Okay, I can work with this. System. That means stats. Quests. Power progression. I know how this works.
[STATUS WINDOW AVAILABLE]
Show me.
A window appeared in his mind's eye. Blue text. Clean. Organized.
[STATUS WINDOW]
Name: Kael Ashford
Age: 0 (Newborn - 3 hours old)
Title: Bastard Son
Rank: Unranked (Soul Forge Unawakened)
Physical Attributes:
Strength: 1 (infant baseline)
Agility: 1 (infant baseline)
Endurance: 3 (critically low - weak constitution)
Vitality: 2 (dangerously low)
Magical Attributes:
Mana: 8 (unusually high for infant)
Soul Power: 12 (abnormal - source unknown)
Willpower: 45 (retained from previous life)
Special Traits:
[Reincarnated Soul] - Retained memories and consciousness from previous life
[Weak Constitution] - 40% reduced health pool, slower physical development, higher illness susceptibility
[Sealed Bloodline] - ??? (Unknown origin)
Status Effects:
[Newborn] - All physical stats severely reduced, limited motor control
[Malnourished (Mild)] - Mother's poor nutrition during pregnancy affecting development
[Hypothermia Risk] - Room temperature too low for newborn
System Points (SP): 0
Skills: None
Equipment: None
[QUEST SYSTEM AVAILABLE]
Of course there are quests.
[MAIN QUEST ACTIVATED]
QUEST: SURVIVE YOUR FIRST YEAR
Objective: Reach age 1 without dying
Difficulty: HARD
Rewards:
100 System Points
[Basic Soul Cultivation Manual]
Soul Forge Awakening Eligibility
Title: "Against All Odds"
Failure Penalty: Death
Time Limit: 365 days
Additional Information:
Average infant mortality rate in Ashford servant quarters: 42%
Bastard child mortality rate: 61%
Your mortality rate (weak constitution): 78%
Mother's survival rate (post-childbirth complications): 65%
Note: The odds are not in your favor. Good luck.
Kael would have laughed if he could. Instead, he just cried harder. His infant body didn't care about quests or systems. It wanted food. Warmth. Sleep.
Lena seemed to understand. She adjusted him, cradling him against her chest more securely.
"You're hungry, aren't you?" Her voice was still shaky but softer now. Gentle. "I know. I know, sweet one. Here."
She fumbled with her dress. Kael's adult mind immediately went nope nope nope this is uncomfortable but his infant body didn't care. Survival instincts kicked in.
Feeding was... weird. Humiliating. But necessary. And as he nursed, some of the panic faded. The warmth of her body. The steady rhythm of her heartbeat. It was... comforting.
Okay. Okay, this is my life now. Baby. Helpless. Starting from absolute zero.
He looked around as much as his limited vision allowed. The room was tiny. Maybe eight feet by ten feet. Stone walls, rough and uneven. A single small window—barely a slit really—letting in weak gray light. One bed—more of a cot really. Straw mattress. Thin blanket.
A wooden crate in the corner serving as a dresser. A washbasin. A chamber pot. That was it. That was everything.
The air was cold. Damp. It smelled like mildew and old stone and unwashed bodies. From outside, muffled sounds. Voices. Footsteps. The clang of pots and pans. Kitchen sounds.
Servant quarters. Bottom of the barrel.
Lena shifted, adjusting him again. She winced. Pain flickering across her face.
She's hurt. The childbirth. The midwife said she lost a lot of blood.
Kael finished feeding. His eyelids were drooping. Infant exhaustion pulling him under. But he fought it. Wanted to stay aware. To observe. To—
Sleep won.
He woke to voices.
"—can't believe she's keeping it."
"What choice does she have? Can't exactly give a baby back."
"She could leave it at the temple. The priests would take it."
"And admit she had a bastard with the duke? Her family would disown her. At least here she has a roof."
"Some roof. Have you seen that room? I wouldn't keep pigs in there."
Laughter. Harsh and mocking.
Kael's eyes cracked open. His vision was still blurry but improving. He was in a wooden crate—makeshift crib. Rough blanket underneath him. Another thin blanket on top.
The voices were coming from outside. The door was cracked open slightly.
"I give it a week," one voice said. "The baby, I mean. Look at it—weak little thing. Blue around the mouth when it was born."
"I heard the midwife say it won't make it."
"Lena's delusional if she thinks she can—"
"Shh! She's coming!"
Footsteps. Tap tap tap. Quick and light. The door opened wider.
Lena stepped in. Her face was pale. Dark circles under her eyes. She was wearing a plain brown dress—servant's clothing. Rough fabric. Patches on the elbows. Her hair was tied back in a messy bun.
She looked exhausted.
But when she saw Kael was awake, she smiled. Small. Tired. But genuine.
"You're up." She crossed to the crate-crib. Knelt down beside it. "Did the noise wake you? I'm sorry. The others are... well." Her smile faded. "They're not quiet."
They were talking shit about us.
Kael made a sound. Not quite crying. Just... acknowledgment.
Lena reached in. Picked him up. Careful. Supporting his head like she'd been told.
"I have to work soon," she said quietly. "Kitchen duty. But I can feed you first. And then..." She looked around the tiny room. "I'll have to leave you here. I'm sorry. I can't take you with me. But I'll check on you. Every chance I get. I promise."
She's going to work. Already. How long has it been since I was born?
He tried to count. The light from the window. Had it changed? It was hard to tell. Time was fuzzy in infant brain.
Maybe a day? Less?
Lena fed him again. Changed his cloth diaper—humiliating but necessary. Then wrapped him in the thin blanket.
"I'll be back," she whispered. She kissed his forehead. Her lips were warm. Soft. "Be good, little one."
She set him back in the crate-crib. Stood. Hesitated. Looked back at him.
Then left. The door closed. Click.
Silence.
Kael was alone.
He stared up at the ceiling. Rough wooden beams. Cobwebs in the corners. A spider crawling along one beam.
Okay. Assessment time.
Situation: Reincarnated as bastard son in medieval-ish fantasy world. Weak constitution. Poor living conditions. Mother is a teenage servant with no resources. Clan doesn't care if I live or die.
Assets: System with quests and status window. Retained adult consciousness. Knowledge from previous life (though not sure how useful special forces training is as a baby). High willpower stat apparently.
Threats: Infant mortality. Illness. Cold. Hunger. Neglect. The clan's legitimate children who might see me as competition (unlikely) or entertainment (more likely).
Objective: Survive. Get strong. Protect Lena. Eventually thrive in this world.
Immediate problem: I'm a fucking baby and can't do anything.
Fantastic.
He closed his eyes. Tried to sleep. His body needed it.
But sleep didn't come easy. The cold seeped through the blanket. His stomach cramped—probably gas or something baby-related. And from outside, he could hear the servants.
"Did you see her? Walking like she's ninety years old."
"She lost a lot of blood. Shouldn't even be working yet."
"Yeah, well, Duke Ashford doesn't care. Servants work or they starve."
"She should've been smarter. Should've said no."
"Like you can say no to a duke."
"I would've. Better to lose your job than end up like her."
More laughter.
Kael's tiny fists clenched. Useless. He couldn't even make a proper fist yet.
One day. One day I'll make them all shut up.
He drifted off eventually. Exhaustion winning out.
The days blurred together.
Lena would leave before dawn. Come back during breaks to feed him and check on him. Leave again. Return at night, exhausted, and collapse into bed with him curled against her.
The room was always cold. The blanket was always too thin. His stomach was always cramping.
But Lena was there. Always. She'd sing to him sometimes. Soft lullabies in a language his reincarnated memories recognized but his modern mind didn't know before.
"Hush now, little star," she'd sing. Her voice was surprisingly sweet. "The world is dark and hard and far. But I will keep you safe and warm. I'll shield you from the coming storm."
Kael's infant body would calm. Something about her voice. Her warmth. It made the fear recede.
On the fifth day, a new notification appeared.
[NEW FEATURE UNLOCKED: OBSERVE]
Oh? What's this?
He focused on Lena. She was mending a shirt—something she did for extra copper coins. Her hands moved quickly. Practiced.
Observe.
[OBSERVE ACTIVATED]
A new window appeared.
[OBSERVATION: LENA]
Name: Lena (no family name - commoner)
Age: 16
Occupation: Servant (Kitchen Maid, Ashford Keep)
Rank: Unranked (No Soul Forge)
Physical Attributes:
Strength: 8 (below average for adult)
Agility: 9 (below average)
Endurance: 12 (average - naturally resilient)
Vitality: 6 (low - recovering from childbirth)
Magical Attributes:
Mana: 3 (untrained, naturally low)
Soul Power: 5 (average for commoner)
Willpower: 32 (above average - determined personality)
Status Effects:
[Exhausted] - Working 14-hour days, -30% to all physical stats
[Malnourished] - Insufficient food intake, prioritizing baby, -20% vitality
[Recovering: Major Blood Loss] - 45 days remaining for full recovery
[Sleep Deprived] - Infant care + work schedule, -15% cognitive function
[Determined] - Will not give up easily, +50% willpower
Skills:
[Cooking] - Basic Level
[Cleaning] - Basic Level
[Sewing] - Intermediate Level
[Childcare] - Beginner Level (learning as she goes)
Relationship Status:
Kael Ashford: Mother (100/100 - Unconditional Love)
Duke Aldric Ashford: Resentment (5/100 - Blamed for situation)
Fellow Servants: Isolated (15/100 - Mostly pitied or mocked)
Notes:
Lena is an ordinary human with no combat training or magical ability. She survives through sheer determination and love for her son.
Current Health Status: Poor
Prognosis Without Intervention: Declining. Estimated 6 months before serious health complications if current malnutrition and exhaustion continue.
Threat Assessment: None to you. All threat to herself through self-sacrifice.
Kael's heart—tiny and weak as it was—clenched.
Six months. She's killing herself keeping me alive.
The malnourishment. Giving him what little food she had. The exhaustion. Working herself to the bone.
I need to fix this. Need to survive. Need to get strong fast enough to help her.
But he was a baby. He couldn't do anything. Couldn't even hold his own head up properly yet.
Patience. Just... patience. Survive. Grow. Get strong.
[QUEST UPDATE: SURVIVE YOUR FIRST YEAR]
Progress: 5 days / 365 days
Status: Critical
Health Status: Weak but stable
Mother's Health Status: Declining
Warning: Mother's health is deteriorating. If Lena dies or becomes incapacitated, your survival rate drops to 5%.
Fuck.
Kael couldn't help her. Not yet. All he could do was survive. Grow. Not make things harder for her.
So he did. He cried less. Slept more. Tried not to be difficult.
And Lena... Lena kept going.
Two weeks in, everything changed.
Kael was in his crate-crib. Lena was out working. The door was closed but not locked—there was no lock.
Footsteps outside. THUD THUD THUD. Heavier than usual.
The door slammed open. BANG.
A boy stood there. Maybe ten years old. Rich silk clothing. Embroidered with the Ashford crest—a sword crossed with a star. Expensive leather boots. Clean face. Well-fed.
Legitimate son. Written all over him.
The boy looked around the room. His nose wrinkled.
"Gods, it stinks in here," he said. His voice was high. Childish. But dripping with contempt. "This is where the bastard lives?"
He walked in. Uninvited. Entitled.
Kael couldn't move. Could only watch as the boy approached the crate-crib.
"So this is it." The boy leaned over. Stared down at Kael. "The bastard. Mother said it was weak. She was right. Look at it—scrawny little thing."
Kael glared. It was all he could do.
The boy laughed. "It's staring at me. Like it understands." He reached down. Poked Kael's chest. Hard. "You're nothing. You know that? Bastard scum. Your mother's a whore and you're worthless."
You little shit.
The boy looked around. Saw the wooden toy—carved horse, crude but Lena's only gift—sitting on the crate.
He picked it up.
"This yours?" He dangled it. "Pathetic. I have a hundred toys better than this."
He threw it. Hard. Against the wall.
CRACK.
It shattered. Pieces scattering across the floor.
"Oops." The boy grinned. "Accidents happen."
Footsteps outside. Running. TAP TAP TAP.
Lena burst through the door. Her face was flushed. Out of breath.
"Young master Cedric," she said. Breathless. She bowed. Quick. Submissive. "I—I didn't know you were visiting. How can I help you?"
Cedric—the boy—shrugged. "Just wanted to see the bastard. Mother was curious."
"I see." Lena's voice was carefully neutral. "Well, as you can see, he's... he's just a baby. Nothing interesting."
"Yeah." Cedric looked at Kael again. "Nothing interesting at all. Probably won't even survive the month."
He walked past Lena. Paused at the door.
"Tell your bastard to stay out of sight," he said casually. "Mother doesn't want to see it around the keep. Understand?"
"Yes, young master."
Cedric left. STOMP STOMP STOMP. The door swung shut behind him.
Lena stood there. Frozen. Her hands were shaking.
Then she moved. Rushed to the crate-crib. Picked Kael up. Held him close.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. Her voice was breaking. "I'm so sorry. I heard he was in this wing and I ran but I wasn't fast enough. Did he hurt you? Are you okay?"
Kael made a soft sound. Not crying. Just... acknowledgment.
I'm okay. Just angry.
Lena looked at the broken toy. The pieces scattered on the floor. Her eyes filled with tears.
"I made that for you," she said quietly. "It took me a week. I'm not good at carving but I tried." A tear slid down her cheek. "I'm sorry it wasn't nice enough. I'm sorry for everything."
Don't apologize. This isn't your fault.
But he couldn't say it. Could only lie there in her arms as she cried.
And Kael made another promise.
I'll remember this. Every insult. Every broken toy. Every tear.
And one day—one day when I'm strong—I'll make them all pay.
[NEW QUEST AVAILABLE]
[QUEST: REMEMBER YOUR ENEMIES]
Objective: Survive and grow strong enough to confront those who wronged you
Targets Registered:
Cedric Ashford (Age 10, 2nd son of First Wife)
Reward: Variable based on confrontation outcome
Note: Revenge is a dish best served cold. And you have a long memory.**
Damn right I do.
[QUEST ACCEPTED]
Lena rocked him gently. Back and forth. Her tears falling onto his blanket.
"We'll survive this," she whispered. "Both of us. I don't care what anyone says. You're my son. And I'll protect you. I'll make you strong. You'll show them all."
Yes. Yes, I will.
Outside, the sun was setting. Gray light fading to darkness through the tiny window.
Inside the small, cold room, a teenage mother held her bastard son and made impossible promises.
And that bastard son—with the mind of a soldier and the power of a system—made his own promises in return.
I will survive.
I will grow strong.
I will protect her.
And I will make this clan remember the name Kael Ashford.
The game had truly begun.
[END CHAPTER 1]