The air in the room was thick with the scent of medicinal herbs and the warmth of a crackling hearth. Marcus hovered over the bed, his eyes damp with an overwhelming joy as he looked down at the small bundle in Elena's arms.
"Look at him, Elena. He has your eyes... and that shock of white hair from my side of the family. He's perfect."
Lucian's tiny chest rose and fell with shallow, rapid breaths. To the parents, he was a miracle; to the soul trapped inside the infant body, the world was a blur of vibrant blue and stark white. His limbs felt like leaden weights, heavy and uncoordinated.
'Where... am I? Why is everything so bright?'
He opened his mouth, attempting to demand an explanation, but only a pathetic, high-pitched gurgle escaped.
'My voice... my body... what has happened to me?'
His red eyes darted around the room, struggling to process the sudden warmth. The last thing he remembered was the cold.
The Empire of Oros – Two Days Prior
The Council Hall was silent, the air heavy with the scent of expensive incense and suppressed fear. Lucian sat upon the Obsidian Throne, his long white hair spilling over his shoulders like a frozen waterfall. He was thirty-five years old, and he had spent thirty of those years as a sword in the hands of the state.
"I am retiring," he announced, his voice cutting through the hall like a winter gale. "The wars are over. The borders are secure. I will appoint a successor by the week's end."
The councilors didn't argue. They bowed, their faces masks of subservience. Lucian thought he had finally earned his rest.
Later that night, in the solitude of his chambers, he reached for a cup of herbal tea. It was a simple habit. He took a single sip, and the world tilted. His lungs seized. A fire, more agonizing than any battlefield wound, tore through his veins.
He collapsed, his fingers clawing at the stone floor. As the darkness rushed in to claim him, he didn't feel anger. He felt a hollow sense of relief.
'Finally... the weapon is broken.'
The Present Day
Weeks passed in a haze of sleep and milk. Lucian learned that his mother, Elena, was a woman of radiant beauty with hair the color of a summer sky. His father, Marcus, was a man who looked like a warrior but treated his son as if he were made of glass.
Lucian couldn't stand the helplessness. On the first day he managed to crawl, he didn't head for toys. He headed for the door, dragging his small body across the floor with a focused intensity.
He found the family library by following the scent of old parchment. It took him an hour to navigate the hallway, his tiny heart hammering against his ribs from the exertion. Once inside, he pulled himself up against a low shelf, his small fingers trembling as he gripped a leather-bound spine.
'This world... it's fundamentally different. We used Ki—the energy of the breath and blood. But these texts speak of Mana. It's everywhere. Cores... elements... fire, wind, water.'
He traced the diagrams of a mana-circulatory system with a chubby finger.
'If I can harness this... if I can combine my knowledge of Ki with this Mana, I won't just be strong. I'll be untouchable.'
He was so deep in his mental calculations that he didn't hear the floorboards creak behind him.
"Oh! Marcus, come quickly! Our little scholar has snuck into the library again!"
Lucian froze. A pair of soft, warm arms scooped him up from the floor. Elena pressed her cheek against his, smelling of lavender.
"Honestly, Lucian," she laughed, her blue eyes sparkling with affection. "You aren't even walking yet, and you're already trying to out-read your father. You're going to be a handful, aren't you?"
Lucian looked at her, his red eyes wide and unblinking.
'Is this... what a family is? It feels... strange. Unnecessary. And yet...'
"Let me see him!" Marcus burst in, grinning ear to ear. "Look at that, he's holding a book on elemental theory. A bit ambitious for someone who still wets himself, don't you think, son?"
"Dah... ba!" Lucian protested, waving a fist at his father.
'Quiet, old man. I was conquering nations while you were still learning to sharpen a blade.'
They laughed, and for the first time in two lifetimes, Lucian didn't feel like a weapon. He felt like a child.
Three days passed in a blur of forced naps and secret research. Every time Elena or Marcus turned their backs, Lucian was on the move, dragging his small, uncoordinated body toward the knowledge he craved. He had mapped out the basic geography of this new land—the Continent of Aethelgard—and confirmed that the laws of mana were far more complex than the simple Ki he had mastered as an Emperor.
'If the heart was the center of Ki, then the solar plexus is the cradle for a Mana Core. I need to start meditating, but this infant body falls asleep the moment I sit still for more than five minutes.'
He was currently tucked away in a corner of the library, hidden behind a stack of thick encyclopedias. He had managed to flip to a page detailing the "Acquisition of Elemental Affinity."
'Fire, water, earth, air... and rare deviants. In my old world, I was the sword. Here, I could be the storm itself.'
His red eyes scanned the text with a hunger that no child should possess. He was so close to understanding the initial rotation required to stir the mana in the air when the heavy oak door creaked open.
"Lucian? My little star, where are you hiding now?"
Elena's voice was playful, but Lucian felt a spike of genuine panic. He tried to scramble behind a larger book, but his coordination betrayed him. His hand slipped, and he tumbled onto his back with a soft thud.
"Found you!"
Elena appeared over him, her blue hair cascading down like a silk curtain. She scooped him up, pressing him against her chest and spinning him around.
"You really are your father's son. Always looking for a new frontier to conquer, even if it's just the bottom shelf of the history section."
Lucian sighed, his tiny face set in a look of stoic annoyance.
'Woman, release me. I am on the verge of a breakthrough that could reshape the magical foundations of—'
Suddenly, Lucian's internal monologue came to a screeching halt. A strange, warm, and utterly traitorous sensation washed through his lower half. His stomach did a somersault, and a very distinct, squelching sound filled the quiet library.
Elena froze. Her nose crinkled, and a slow, knowing smirk spread across her face.
"Oh... oh dear."
Lucian felt the heat rush to his face, a deep, burning crimson that matched his eyes. He sat there in her arms, frozen in absolute horror. He had commanded legions. He had stood before gods without blinking. He had executed traitors with a single breath.
'No. This cannot be happening.'
"Marcus!" Elena called out, her voice bubbling over with laughter. "The future Archmage just had an accident! Bring the cloth and the warm water!"
'Kill me. Poison me again. Send me back to the void. Anything is better than this.'
As his mother carried him toward the changing table, laughing all the way, the former Emperor of Oros squeezed his eyes shut in pure, unadulterated shame. He was a master of the blade, a sovereign of the north, and a legend of war but for now, he was just a baby who needed a diaper change.