Eiden sat quietly on the long, velvet-white castle couch, its cushions soft enough to swallow his tiny frame.
The library was a vast sanctuary—silent, warm, and impossibly immense. Towering shelves disappeared into the shadows above, and the polished marble floors reflected the gentle glow of lanterns fueled by floating mana. Dozens of books drifted around him in a slow, steady orbit. Pages turned themselves with the dry rustle of autumn leaves; covers snapped open at his slightest thought.
He didn't look like a baby. He looked like an ancient king trapped in a newborn shell, resting his elbow on the arm of the couch and supporting his head with a small hand. His grey eyes scanned a thick, hovering grimoire with the calm precision of someone who had seen civilizations rise and fall.
The castle was still. The dragons were quiet. Even the mana in the air seemed to hold its breath.
He closed the book gently, letting it drift back into the orbit. "So this is where my new beginning starts…"
Unlike his past life, he did not crave a battle to the death. He craved power—not for destruction or revenge, but because he had seen what true power looked like, and he wanted more. He wanted the Grimoire of Divinark. It was a book so ancient even the gods whispered about it, a relic that turned thought into reality. Imagine a flame, and it ignites. Imagine a world, and it forms. Creation, prediction, manipulation—true omnipotence.
He slid off the couch, his tiny feet padding across the marble. He needed information, but first, he wanted to understand the fortress he now called home.
He stepped into the long hallway, where the air was scented with incense. Portraits of dragon nobles and warriors lined the walls, some so old the colors had faded into ghostly silhouettes. Eiden walked slowly, observing everything. He passed butlers who bowed instantly, their eyes wide as they sensed the suffocating mana radiating from his body. He ignored them. He passed servants who whispered in his wake, unsure whether to fear or worship him. He ignored them, too.
In the kitchen—a massive room of steam and roasted meat—the entire staff froze the moment Eiden entered. Knives stopped mid-slice. A loaf of bread hit the floor with a soft thud. Eiden looked around calmly, studying the layout and the mana signatures of every worker. He wasn't here for food. He was here to memorize the structure: the ovens, the enchanted iceboxes, and the hidden trapdoor beneath a rug that led to the underground tunnels.
He continued his tour through the dining hall, the armory, and the treasury. Every room fell silent. Every person bowed. Eventually, he returned to the main hall, standing beneath chandeliers of floating crystals.
"This time," he whispered, his eyes glowing faintly, "I won't just be the First Divinity. I'll surpass even the gods."
Over the next several days, Eiden remained in the library, consuming knowledge at a pace no mortal could comprehend. By the fourth day, he had read every single grimoire in the castle. And then, he was bored.
Drumming a tiny finger against the couch, he hopped off and padded down the hall to a large wooden door. He pushed it open to find Bengie buried under trade agreements and noble requests.
"I need you to take me to the Redcrest Clan," Eiden said.
Bengie raised an eyebrow. "Now?"
"Soon," Eiden replied.
Bengie sighed, leaning back. "I don't have clearance for the borders of Linn. Ever since the world's strongest mage died nineteen years ago, the kingdoms panicked. They built a massive stone border and an unbreakable barrier. No flying, no teleporting. No one gets through without clearance."
"So it's impossible to pass except through the gate," Eiden noted. "Understood."
"But I know someone who can grant us clearance," Bengie said, nodding toward the window. On a distant hill, a colossal castle pierced the sky, its walls shimmering with enchantments. "King Nipolla. One of the Five Powerful Kings."
Eiden looked toward the towers. "Take me to him tomorrow morning. I do not care whether his guards try to stop us."
"I'll have a carriage ready at 0600 hours," Bengie agreed.
As Eiden walked back down the hallway, he turned a corner and collided with a servant carrying a tray. The man gasped as cups, plates, and food spun through the air. He fell to his back, eyes squeezed shut in terror, waiting for the crash.
But there was only silence.
He opened his eyes to see everything—the tray, the drinks, the food—suspended perfectly still in the air. Eiden stood there, his mind holding the world in place. With a thought, the liquids flowed back into their cups and the food returned to the plates. The tray drifted neatly to a side table.
"Are you alright?" Eiden asked, his voice soft but steady.
"Y-yes… thank you, Master Eiden," the servant stammered.
Eiden nodded and returned to the library, sitting cross-legged on the couch. He rested his chin on a tiny finger. "I must get the Grimoire of Divinark… my Infinite Grimoire… and my body."
He narrowed his eyes. Without his original form, he could only cast two hundred spells. A fraction of what he needed.
The next morning, Eiden awoke to the soft glow of lanterns. Bengie stood before him in his immaculate white suit. "The carriage is waiting."
With a snap of his fingers, Eiden's cloak shimmered, weaving itself into a pristine white suit that fit his tiny frame perfectly. He hopped off the couch and followed Bengie outside. The morning sun was rising as they stepped into a sleek black carriage trimmed with silver.
The ride was long, filled with the sounds of a kingdom waking up. After twenty minutes, the carriage stopped. A guard's voice barked from outside. "The king said NO ONE enters today. Move along!"
Eiden didn't wait. The carriage door was ripped from its latch by an invisible force. Eiden floated out, landing softly. He walked toward the guard, his expression unsettlingly calm. "I must speak with the king. Move. I do not have time to waste."
The guards stared, paralyzed. A baby, walking and speaking with the voice of a man?
"Let them in."
A deep voice echoed across the courtyard. King Nipolla approached, his gold and silver armor reflecting the sun. "I've been waiting for both of them."
Inside the King's office, Nipolla sat behind his desk, staring at Eiden with disbelief. "I still can't believe you're alive. You were the mage I admired most."
The king took a golden pendant and signed a parchment with swift strokes. He slid the pendant across the desk. "This will grant you passage through the border gate."
Eiden reached out and snatched it. Before leaving, he stared directly into the king's eyes. "When I get all my possessions back, I will place a barrier around this kingdom. One strong enough to protect you for generations. I promise you I will."
The king's stern expression softened. "Alright. I'll be waiting. If you ever need my forces, tell me."
"Ok," Eiden replied. He hopped off the chair and walked out, his tiny footsteps echoing down the stairs.
Bengie hurried after him. "You move pretty fast for someone with tiny legs."
Eiden side-eyed him. "When I was first born in my original life, I could walk and speak before I was three months old. Before I turned two, I mastered dozens of grimoires. Everyone in my clan could. We were… different. Blessed."
Bengie blinked, finally understanding the true depth of the divinity standing beside him.