Slowly, as if waking from a deep and stubborn sleep, he opened his eyes.
The first thing he noticed was that he was still conscious which was… surprising.
The last clear memory in his mind involved heavy rain, a moment of dramatic self-reflection, and a rapidly approaching delivery truck. Not just any delivery truck, but one belonging to Goldilocks, which made the entire situation oddly poetic in a way he had not asked for.
Naturally, the logical conclusion was that he had died.
Yet here he was.
Alive.
Or at least… something close to alive.
His thoughts moved slowly, like someone walking through thick fog.
Is this heaven?
It seemed like a reasonable guess. After all, being hit by a truck rarely led to pleasant recovery stories. Heaven, therefore, felt like a comforting possibility.
But another thought soon followed.
If this is heaven… why is it so dark?
Indeed, darkness surrounded him. Not the comfortable darkness of night in a bedroom, but something deeper; something quiet and enclosed, like being inside a cave with no visible exit.
Just as he was beginning to question the interior design choices of the afterlife, something changed.
A small light appeared.
At first it was little more than a faint glow, but slowly it widened, stretching into what looked very much like an opening. The darkness around him seemed to part, revealing a warm light beyond.
It truly did resemble the mouth of a cave.
Then, quite suddenly, he felt a strong pull.
Something was drawing him toward the light. He moved forward without any control, drifting helplessly toward the opening until a large shape came into view.
A hand and a very large hand at that.
For a brief moment he wondered if he had somehow shrunk to the size of a potato, because the hand looked enormous but before he could investigate this mystery any further, he heard a voice.
It belonged to an elderly woman, and it carried the tone of someone who had done this sort of thing many times before.
"It's a boy!"
The words echoed through the room, and almost immediately a wave of excitement followed.
Voices filled the air with joyful murmurs and relieved laughter.
The hand that had pulled him from the darkness lifted him carefully, and as his eyes opened wider, his surroundings slowly came into focus.
He was inside a wooden room where walls are made of old planks, the kind that had clearly been part of the same house for many years. A small lamp rested on a nearby table, casting a warm but modest glow that illuminated the room just enough to see.
Then there was a bed and on that bed lay a woman. She looked exhausted, her brown hair damp and clinging to her forehead, yet her face carried a quiet happiness. She was neither especially beautiful nor unpleasant to look at, but simply an ordinary woman who had just finished the exhausting work of bringing a child into the world.
The elderly woman holding him chuckled softly.
"Well now," she said, clearly pleased with herself, "a healthy little boy."
The woman on the bed looked toward the child with gentle eyes.
"A boy…" she murmured, her voice weak but filled with warmth.
A man stepped closer to the bed. He was tall and broad-shouldered, the sort of man whose strength came from years of working outdoors rather than lifting weights in a modern gym. His clothes were simple and rough, and there was something unmistakably medieval about the entire scene.
He looked down nervously.
"Is he alright?" the man asked.
The elderly woman gave a confident nod.
"Perfectly fine," she replied. "Strong too. I'd say he'll grow into a sturdy young lad."
The man let out a long breath of relief.
"That's good… that's very good."
With careful hands, the elderly woman passed the baby to him.
"Here you are, John," she said with a satisfied smile. "Your son."
John accepted the child as if he had just been handed the most fragile treasure in the world. His large hands held the tiny bundle with surprising gentleness.
He stared down in wonder.
"Well… hello there, little one," he said softly.
From the bed, the woman laughed faintly.
"You look terrified."
"I'm not terrified," John protested quickly, though his expression suggested otherwise. "I'm just… being careful."
The elderly woman chuckled.
"That's the usual reaction," she said. "New fathers always look like someone just handed them a bomb."
The woman on the bed smiled warmly.
"Thank you, Racquel," she said to the midwife. "We couldn't have done this without you."
Racquel waved her hand dismissively.
"Oh, I've delivered half the babies in this village," she said proudly. "This one was just another good day's work."
She leaned closer to the child and observed him thoughtfully.
"So," Racquel asked, "have you decided on a name?"
John glanced toward the bed.
The woman met his eyes and nodded gently.
"Luke," she said.
John's smile widened.
"Luke," he repeated, looking down at the small child in his arms.
"Welcome to the world, Luke."
—
Inside the tiny bundle of cloth, the mind of the former college student processed this information with growing alarm.
Wait.
Wait a moment.
Did they just say… welcome to the world?
His thoughts raced.
Am I…
Did I…
After a moment of careful observation—which included his suspiciously tiny hands and the disturbing lack of neck control he arrived at a shocking but undeniable conclusion.
I think… I got reborn.
And somehow, despite the strangeness of the situation, that thought did not feel entirely unwelcome.
The realization came slowly. At first he felt shocked. Anyone would be surprised after discovering that death by delivery truck had apparently been followed by rebirth in a completely unfamiliar place.
Yet as the idea settled in his mind, another feeling began to grow.
Excitement.
Because if there was one thing he had spent countless hours reading about during his life on Earth, it was exactly this kind of story.
Reincarnation.
Another world.
A fresh start.
Isn't this exactly what happens in webnovels? he thought with growing amusement.
Did I just become the main character?
The idea alone was enough to fill him with childish excitement—though, technically speaking, he already was a child now.
His thoughts were interrupted when Racquel picked up a wooden staff that had been leaning quietly against the wall.
The tip of the staff began to glow.
A soft light filled the room, gentle and warm.
Luke felt the sensation immediately. The warmth spread through his small body, soothing every ache and discomfort he had felt since entering the world.
It felt… magical.
Because it was.
Magic…
The realization thrilled him.
Real magic existed in this world.
Not tricks.
Not illusions.
Actual magic.
As if that discovery were not already impressive enough, Luke soon noticed something else.
Although the people around him spoke in a language he had never heard before, he could understand every word perfectly.
The sounds were unfamiliar, yet their meaning appeared in his mind as naturally as breathing.
That's convenient, he thought.
Very convenient.
Days passed.
Life as a newborn turned out to be extremely simple.
He slept.
He ate.
He occasionally cried, though sometimes he suspected the crying happened automatically without his permission.
But during the quiet hours, when everyone believed he was peacefully asleep, Luke experimented.
There was not much else a baby could do, after all.
One day, while lying quietly, he tried something he had seen countless times in the webnovels he used to read.
He focused his mind.
He calmed his thoughts.
Then he simply… felt the world around him.
At first, nothing happened. Then slowly, like stars appearing in a night sky, tiny glowing specks began to reveal themselves. They floated gently in the air around him.
Small lights.
Soft.
Beautiful.
Luke stared at them with wonder.
Mana.
He did not know how he recognized it.
But he did.
Carefully, he focused on one of the glowing specks and tried to draw it closer.
The tiny light trembled slightly.
Then it moved.
Slowly but unmistakably, it drifted toward him and disappeared into his body.
A warm sensation followed.
Luke nearly exploded with excitement.
IT WORKED.
Mana.
He was absorbing mana.
Of course, there was one small problem.
After concentrating for only a few minutes, his newborn body ran out of energy completely and with no warning or resistance whatsoever, he fell asleep instantly followed by complete darkness.
Thus began Luke's early life routine.
Sleep.
Eat.
Absorb mana.
Sleep again.
—
Inside the crib, Luke stared quietly at the wooden ceiling while thinking about his strange new life.
Alright, he thought seriously.
Let's review the situation.
I died.
I got hit by a cake delivery truck.
Now I'm reborn in another world where magic exist.
And I can absorb mana.
A tiny baby smile appeared on his face.
Honestly… this might be the best accident of my life.
He closed his eyes again and focused on the glowing specks around him.
Come here, little mana…
Two minutes later, Luke fell asleep.
Such was the difficult and exhausting life of a newborn mage.