I look once again at the floating translucent screen in front of me, focusing on one skill in particular—Mind Palace. I try to activate it with sheer willpower.
But instead of anything happening, a cold message appears:
[Not enough mental strength to activate]
I sigh internally. I guess it's fine. I am, after all, a 3–4-month-old baby.
The body is frail, the brain still underdeveloped—but my consciousness is intact, and my curiosity is burning brighter than ever.
Just as I was lost in thought about the potential of Mind Palace, the soft creak of the door breaks the silence.
The maid from earlier walks in, a bottle of milk in her hand.
I force a soft cry, mimicking a hungry infant. Let's keep up the act.
"It's alright, young master. Your family is arriving tomorrow from their trip," she says with a kind smile, soothing me as if I understood nothing.
My family, huh... I guess I'm finally going to see their faces.
She carefully brings the bottle to my lips and I instinctively suckle. The warmth of the milk flows down, oddly comforting. After the feeding, she gently wipes my mouth and changes my clothes with practiced grace.
Then, she picks me up into her arms and begins walking around the mansion. I remain alert, taking in every detail.
The house was grand—far beyond what I'd imagined. It brimmed with elegance, from the marble floors to the tall arched windows. I spot other maids diligently tending to chores, the clinking of utensils coming from what I assume is the kitchen.
But she doesn't stop there.
Instead, she takes me somewhere far more interesting—a room that immediately captures all my attention.
The Library
We pass through towering wooden doors, and I'm met with the breathtaking sight of rows upon rows of shelves, books stretching up to the high ceiling.
It must span three rooms' worth, at least.
She takes a seat on a corner chair, soft and worn, by a large reading table. Gently, she picks up a book from it and opens it.
Ah, a storytime. A habit to entertain me as a child, but something I'm going to enjoy immensely.
She begins reading, her voice calm and soothing. But the tale she weaves is nothing short of gripping.
Once upon a time, in the slums of a wealthy city, lived a beggar. A man battered by fate—tormented, beaten, and discriminated against every day. He resented the nobles, their excess, their pride.
One day, an angel passed through the slums. Not an ordinary one—the Angel of Misery. Wherever she walked, sorrow bloomed. But her heart was not evil. She simply carried the world's pain with her.
Seeing the broken beggar, she approached him and asked: 'Do you desire help?'
The beggar, eyes hollow with fury, answered: 'Give me strength—enough to bring ruin. I'll pay any price.'
The angel's eyes turned dark, her wings—once hidden—unfurled into blackened feathers. Her voice, no longer soft, declared:
'I was once tasked to summon a demon lord, but I feared to do so. Yet now, seeing this world's truth… Heed my call, mortal. You shall become the Demon Lord.'
And with that, she vanished.
The maid turns the page. I'm already glued, but I can't move or speak. Just listen.
A thunderous explosion tore through the city. Dungeons sprouted like cancer across the land. The beggar was no more—a monstrous, blood-fueled demon lord stood in his place.
He summoned armies from his own flesh. Goblins. Kobolds. Orcs. Hideous beings that devoured anything in sight. City after city fell.
Until he came—Alucard. The founder of our great nation.
Blessed by angels, Alucard gathered warriors and struck back. The war raged for years. Finally, as Alucard stood above the defeated demon, the monster laughed.
'I never was. Never am. I shall be born again from the malice of men.'
Thus, it is said: The Demon Lord is born not of magic, but of hatred. And only divine light can destroy it.
And so, through the angels, the world was gifted magic, and through the heroes, hope."
The maid glances at the clock. "Ahh, it's time for you to sleep, young master," she says, closing the book.
She scoops me into her arms and begins walking through the hallway. The echo of her footsteps fades into the calm silence of the mansion.
Inside, though, I'm buzzing with thoughts.
The existence of angels... reincarnation... magic... demons and heroes...
A wide grin creeps across my face. So interesting.
I may be a baby now, but this world… it's a feast of knowledge, legends, and systems waiting to be unraveled.