Azel stirred, his small body twitching as a dull ache throbbed behind his temples. His crimson eyes flickered open, the ceiling above him slightly blurred.
For a moment, he just lay there—motionless, listening to the faint hum of machinery and the rhythmic ticking of a wall clock. His tiny hand twitched.
He sighed inwardly.
"Well, it's official. I'm fucking weak. I just woke up and I feel like I'm going through hell."
The words echoed in his mind with quiet venom. He tried to move his arm again, but even that simple motion made him feel as though he was dragging a mountain.
Pathetic.
He closed his eyes again, sinking into thought. First thing to do—acquire strength. And to do that, I'll need blood, quests, and to break those damned seals one by one.
His brows creased slightly. But as he thought about his past, the flow of memory stopped. The further he reached, the emptier it became.
No name. No faces. No emotions. Only fragments—the betrayal, the blinding light of his end, and the whisper of divine voices tearing him apart.
And chaos… always chaos.
He remembered grasping at it, understanding its nature, shaping it until it shaped him back. And then—nothing.
Azel's mind steadied. No use mourning what's gone. A blank slate can be an advantage.
Just then, the door creaked open, light spilling into the nursery. A gentle yet lively voice followed.
"Oh, look who's up and awake!"
Lena, his mother, walked in wearing a loose silk robe. Her long blonde hair shimmered under the light as she approached the crib, a warm smile spreading across her face.
She lifted him effortlessly, twirling him around once. Azel blinked in surprise as his small body spun in the air.
"Humans sure love doing this…"
Then she paused, sniffing slightly, her face twisting.
"…Oh no. Don't tell me…"
Azel froze.
No… not now.
Lena sighed dramatically. "You just had to, didn't you?"
Azel mentally cursed his body. A god like me… reduced to this humiliation.
Before he could process his shame, he found himself being carried into a large marble-tiled bathroom. The mirrors gleamed, the faucets were plated in gold, and the scent of soap filled the air.
After what felt like eternal torment, Azel emerged—clean, clothed, and smelling of lavender. His white hair glowed faintly under the room light, and his crimson eyes reflected the faint glint of his irritation.
Lena smiled warmly. "There. My little angel is spotless again!"
"If you knew the truth, you'd call me anything but an angel," Azel thought dryly.
He was quiet as Lena carried him through the house, observing every corner. The mansion was enormous—high ceilings, glass corridors, walls decorated with strange glowing sigils. Maids bowed as they passed, and automated drones hovered silently, cleaning or adjusting decorations.
It was a world that blended magic and technology seamlessly.
"So… it's a Qi-based civilization with integrated machinery. Interesting," he thought, scanning the aura around him. "And they have wealth… a lot of it."
Lena was humming as she carried him, occasionally making faces or tickling his cheek, as if determined to make him giggle. Azel simply blinked at her, silent, his little brows furrowed in confusion
Eventually, he dozed off, lulled by her warmth and the faint hum of distant energy. Lena smiled down at him, though a flicker of worry passed through her eyes before she whispered softly, "Sleep well, my little one."
---
Six Months Later
The sound of soft crawling filled the quiet hallway.
A small figure moved stealthily, his snow-white hair reflecting faint light as he crept along the polished floor.
"Finally," Azel muttered under his breath, "I have a means of transportation."
His voice was muffled, barely more than a whisper, but his satisfaction was clear.
Six months had passed since his reincarnation. He could now crawl with surprising speed—partially thanks to his daily que
Azel smirked inwardly. Slow progress, but steady. And if I continue to feign innocence, they'll never notice.
He had discovered several things in this time. His system provided hidden storage space, capable of holding items in a void-like dimension. He could also faintly sense blood energy whenever someone got too close—though he had yet to feed.
Feeding, he realized, would expose him far too early. For now, subtle growth was the key.
Crawling around a corner, Azel paused. His father, Liam, was standing down the hall, tall and imposing, his red hair glowing faintly under the light. His presence alone distorted the air slightly—a sure sign of immense Qi control.
Azel frowned. No way. Not him.
He turned around immediately, crawling in the opposite direction at maximum speed.
Unfortunately, his father was faster.
With a soft woosh, Liam vanished from sight and reappeared directly in front of Azel, kneeling down with a smirk.
"Where do you think you're going, little man?"
Azel froze. His crimson eyes blinked up coldly.
"Anywhere that's not near you, old man."
Of course, all that came out was a baby-like "Bwah."
Liam chuckled, ruffling his white hair. "Such a serious face. You'll grow up to be trouble."
You have no idea, Azel thought darkly.
Just then, the doorbell rang. A soft digital tone echoed through the hall:
Ding… Dong…
Liam's expression shifted instantly. The warmth drained from his face, replaced by a sharp, icy focus.
He picked Azel up without a word and walked toward the door. The air around him grew heavy, faint traces of Qi condensing invisibly.
When he opened the door, the man who had once smiled like a warm sun now radiated the stillness of a predator.
Standing before him was a hooded figure dressed in black, with faint metallic lines glowing across his gloves. His face was hidden with a black mask
Liam's voice dropped, calm but lethal. "You're a long way from the slums."
The figure said nothing.
For a moment, silence hung between them—then the air twisted. A flicker of movement, too fast for normal eyes to see.
Liam shifted Azel into one arm. A pulse of energy surged out, forming a shimmering barrier that rippled as a dagger struck it from the side.
Two of them, Liam realized instantly.
The masked assassin reappeared on the opposite side, moving in perfect coordination. Liam took one step forward, his free hand trailing glowing symbols in the air—each one igniting as he drew them.
Ruunic casting, Azel realized from his father's arm. Interesting.
A flare of fire burst to life, splitting into a dozen smaller orbs that spiraled through the air.
Outside, a roar echoed as explosions tore through the misty night.
Inside the house, Azel stared silently, his crimson eyes reflecting the glow of flames dancing across the windows.
Liam's voice echoed coldly through the smoke.
"You'll need more than shadows to touch my family."
When the light faded, the ground outside was scorched black. The two assassins lay still, their masks cracked. One of them twitched, reaching for a token—before it disintegrated into ash.
Liam's eyes narrowed. "Erased traces. Professional."
A calm voice drifted down from the balcony above. "You're getting slow."
Liam looked up to see Lena lounging in her chair, a glass of red wine in hand.
He sighed. "You could have helped."
She smirked. "And rob you of your little warm-up?"
He looked down at Azel, who was staring blankly at the smoking battlefield, his tiny brows furrowed in faint curiosity.
Liam smiled slightly. "At least one of us enjoyed the show."
---
Azel's Thoughts
As the warmth of his father's arm cradled him, Azel's mind was a storm.
Assassins. Erased tokens. Qi runes. This world is crawling with power—and secrets.
He stared at the fading flames outside the window, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
Good. A perfect place to rise again.