I slowly come to, feeling the warm liquid around me. Confused, I try to open my eyes, but all I see is darkness. Panic creeps in—am I back in the void?
No. No, no, no. That doesn't make sense. Why would Rob pull me out of the void just to throw me back in?
I force myself to squash the panic down. Think. Okay, think. I try to take a deep breath, but it doesn't feel like I'm breathing—yet somehow I am. The hell? Fine, don't worry about that right now. First, figure out where I am.
I try to move, but my body doesn't respond. It feels like I'm trapped in a confined space filled with liquid. I manage to twitch my leg and kick something soft—leathery, smooth. What the hell was that? I kick again, and this time I hear a muffled cry.
Okay. Okay. Let's think this through. Confined space. Liquid. Soft, squishy walls. I can breathe without using my mouth. My body feels tiny, unresponsive. And that muffled voice… I kick again—another muffled sound.
With all the evidence stacked up, there's only one conclusion. I hope I'm wrong, but I know I'm not.
I'm in a womb.
Silence. Then suddenly—FAHHHHHHHHHH! I scream inside my mind. Since I can't actually talk, I rant and curse at Rob for putting me here. After what feels like ten minutes of mental screaming, I finally calm down.
I sigh. So this is it. Reborn as a baby, but with the full consciousness of a grown man. Great. Totally not traumatizing at all. I tell myself I'll just bury this deep, deep down once I'm born. No trauma if I forget it, right?
Still, I need something to do while I'm stuck here. Oh, I know—I'll sing one of my favorite songs Ruthlessness. In my mind.
[I Sing in Poseidon voice]
I'm left without a choice and without a doubt
Guess the pack of wolves is swimming with the shark now
I gotta make you bleed, I need to see you drown
But before you go, I need to make you learn how.
But before I can finish my imaginary performance, a voice cuts in:
System 100% installed. Hey there, host. System is fully bound and ready for use.
"Fuck, you're interrupting me. I was almost done singing. Whatever. So you're the system Rob promised me? Didn't he also say you were custom‑made?"
System: Yes. I have been custom‑made by Rob, the most awesome, sexiest, badass motherfucker in the whole multiverse. I have been programmed to say that. I am your assistant. Here's what I can do for you, host.
System: Status — shows everything from your health to your equipment, inventory, and everything in between. Since the host has played RPGs before, no need to explain the basics.
System: Now, let's cover the custom features Rob added (again, the most awesome, sexiest badass motherfucker in the multiverse — I am required to repeat that).
1. Chat System — A translucent screen in the corner of your vision (once your eyes develop) where gods and beings can send you messages. Don't worry, it won't block your view unless you focus on it.
2. Gifts & Donations — Gods and beings can send you gifts or bribes. Could be anything from a pencil to the full power of Worldbreaker Hulk. You can accept or ignore them. No pressure.
3. Universe Shield — Protects your universe from unwanted intruders. No random gods, stalkers, or fan raids showing up at your doorstep.
4. Champion Requests — Beings can ask you to become their champion. If you accept, you'll get unique blessings, items, powers, and one "anything" of your choice. But beware: you'll owe them a yearly favor, which could be literally anything.
5.YouTube — Rob thought it'd be funny. You can watch videos and listen to music, but no uploading or commenting. Purely for downtime.
6.Inventory Upgrade — Your inventory grows with you. Right now, it's the size of a large walk‑in closet.
7.Mind Seal & Private Thoughts — Protects your mind from Telepath and lets you toggle which thoughts are visible to viewers.
System: That's everything customized by Rob. Do you have any questions? If not, confirm by saying "yes" or "no" in your mind, host.
I think about it for a second. Everything seems straightforward, so I say in my mind: Yes.
System: Command confirmed, host. Is there anything you'd like to know or do before the stream begins?
"Yeah. Can you show me my status?"
System: Confirmed. Displaying host status.
A translucent screen edged with purple and black flames flickers into view inside my mind.
_________________
Name: [N/A]
Titles: [The Baby Who Has Consciousness / Reincarnated / Livestreamer]
Age: [9 months old]
Level: [0]
Race: [Human]
Alignment: [Chaotic / ???]
Title Effects:
- The Baby Who Has Consciousness: You are a baby with full consciousness in the womb. Next few years = pure hell.
- Reincarnated: Died in the old world, reborn in a new one. Effect: stronger soul.
- Livestreamer: Beings watch your life for entertainment. They don't interfere unless you allow it.
HP: [1/1] — One hit and you're back with Rob.
MP: [0/0] 🔒 Locked — Mana unavailable at this age.
Stamina: [1/1] — You used to could go' 10 hours with a goth woman.… But not anymore, 'cause you know being a baby and all.
Status Effects:
- Weak Body: You are literally a baby. Grow up and eat something.
Skills: N/A
Passive Skills: N/A
Template: N/A
Inventory (Large walk‑in closet):
1. 1 Letter from Rob (Item)
2. 1 Small Beginner Pack (Consumable)
3. 1 Template Card of Yuujirou Hanma (Consumable)
4. 1 Cycle of the Elements Orb (Consumable)
5. 1 Regeneration/Adaptation Orb (Consumable)
Mission Log
N/A
_________________
Me: "Why is my alignment chaotic? And what's with the question marks? Also, why aren't my skills showing up? I have skills. And why is my name blank? Explain, please."
System: Host does not have a name because he has not yet been born to receive one. The host has always been chaotic — you just never realized it. Alignment remains undecided until you choose good, neutral, or evil. As for skills: you died. Those belonged to your old body. You must retrain this one to use them again.
Me: "Ohhh, shit. That… actually makes sense. Fine. I'll wait until I'm born to use the items and read Rob's letter. Speaking of which, it says I'm already nine months old. When exactly am I going to be born?"
System: Host will be born in exactly 34 hours. If host wishes to be born early, he may kick down and break his mother's water. However, this is not advised. Host requires all available nutrients for future development.
Me: "Hmm. HMMMMMMM. Okay, fine, I'll wait. For now. Anyway, your name is gonna be Vicky. After my childhood crush from Fairly Odd Parents. Still do, thanks to… well, let's just say the internet. I'm gonna miss that. Big thick Raven, too…"
I ramble to Vicky for ten minutes straight about all the characters I'll never beat my meat too, again..
And don't get me started on the fan art of Sam Manson from Danny Phantom. God, the images I find of her. Being the last words. I ramble out.
Vicky: Oh, thank Rob, he finally stopped talking.
Me: "What was that, Vicky?"
System: Nothing, host. You're hearing things.
Me: "How the hell am I hearing things in my own mind? Ah, screw it. Anyway, Vicky, wasn't I supposed to be streaming already?"
System: You can start the stream whenever you wish. But be warned: once it begins, it cannot be turned off.
Me: "Hmm. Do I really want Rob and the gods watching me being born? They'd also be watching me float here for 34 hours doing nothing. But then again… Rob did put me in this mess. You know what? Screw it. Start the stream, Vicky. And play something epic while you're at it."
Vicky: Confirmed. Playing music. Stream is now live.
A translucent purple screen flickers into my mind, edged with black flames. At the top: a view counter. I test shrinking it with my thoughts — it works. Nice. I leave it the same size. Zero viewers. Figures.
"Guess I'll just float here and wait," I mutter in my head, kicking at my fleshy prison. Each kick earns me a muffled cry from outside.
***
A woman leans against the wall, clutching her stomach.
"Why the hell do you keep kicking, you little shit?" she groans. Another kick, another cry of pain.
"Oh, come on, you little bastard. I'm starving. You've eaten everything I've got. Stop kicking and let me get to the kitchen."
She scolds her belly, convinced the baby can understand her. Coincidentally, the kicking stops. She smiles, thinking she's been understood — when in reality, the baby just got bored.
She pushes off the wall and heads to the kitchen. The room is warm and lived‑in: a marble island with a fruit basket piled high with apples, oranges, bananas, and kiwis. A sleek black fridge stands across the way, plastered with photos — an elderly black couple smiling arm‑in‑arm, a young black couple on a mountaintop at sunset, and a lone young black woman with a bittersweet smile, cradling her pregnant belly beneath a massive tree.
The countertops match the island, framing a black oven with a glass door. A towel with swirling blue designs hangs from its handle. Above, a small chandelier glows softly, casting light over the sink, dish rack, and the clutter of everyday life.
The woman walked into the kitchen and made a beeline for the fridge. She pulled out pre‑defrosted ground beef, two eggs, butter, an onion, pickles, and mayonnaise, then set them on the island. From the cabinets she grabbed hamburger buns and a handful of spices — salt, pepper, paprika, and more. Finally, she fetched a large silver bowl, dropped the beef inside, and tossed the wrapper into the gray trash can beside the island.
She seasoned the meat lightly, mixing it with her hands until five minutes. later she had perfect. round patties lined up on a plate. After washing her hands, she set a skillet on the stove, heated it, and laid the patties down to sizzle. Five minutes per side. When they were done, she rested them on a plate, hurried back to the fridge for cheese, unwrapped slices on the way, and dropped one on each patty to melt.
Butter hit the skillet next, followed by two cracked eggs. Sunny‑side up. She slid them onto the burgers, toasted buns, and assembled everything with mayo, mustard, and pickles. Then she froze. "Wait, wait, wait…" She opened the freezer, pulled out a tub of chocolate chip ice cream, scooped a mound onto the burgers, and shoved the tub back.
Moments later she was on the couch, TV humming, moaning happily through mouthfuls. "Ohhh, that is so good."
Vicky: Playing on YouTube: Your favorite playlist.
Viewers: [3]
"Oh, fuck yeah," I start singing in my mind, not realizing I've got an audience.
Once again, I'm interrupted. "For fuck's sake, why is somebody always cutting me off mid‑song? …Oh. Viewers. Three of them. Nice."
[TheCrimsonFuker]: HAHAHAHA! You have a lovely inner voice, my little baby. I wonder, do you sound better when screaming?
"Why thank you, Crimson. Not saying your full name — that's your nickname now. But yeah, my goth ex did say I had a sexy scream. So does that answer your question?" I reply in a sing‑song voice.
[TheShogun]: This is interesting. Are you inside a womb?
[TheOneTrueRob]: Hahaha, @TheShogun yes, yes he is. I thought it'd be hilarious to give him consciousness in the womb. And I was right.
(An image of Rob falling to the ground laughing his guts out appears. Literally.)
"Okay, one: you're a dick. Two: why the fuck would you send me something that's gonna give me nightmares?"
[TheOneTrueRob]: What's it like being a baby again? HAHAHA!
I stay quiet for a long moment. "You better hope, that I don't get strong enough to shove my fist up your ass and use you as a Muppet. You bitch. But… thanks, I guess, for giving me this chance. Still, screw you."
[TheOneTrueRob]: Good luck with that. You're welcome, buddy. By the way, how long are you gonna be in there?
I think about jelly filled donuts. "Oh, that? Like… 34 hours? Right, Vicky?"
System: Correct. Thirty‑four hours until birth. Or earlier, if host chooses to break the water.
[TheMasterOfTime]: Pray, good sir, why dost thou tarry in beginning this humble stream? The pastime of gazing upon an infant ensconced within the womb is, with all due respect, a trifle insipid and woefully lacking in diversion!
"…I have no clue what the fuck you just said, but I'm gonna assume you're asking why I started streaming now instead of after I'm born. Answer: because of Rob. If I'm bored, so are you. Blame him."
[TheCrimsonFuker]: I send you a gift. Break that water now. I've got better things to do than watch you baby around. You know, places to be, people to rip in half, people to give new holes to. HAHAHAH!
Vicky: [TheCrimsonFuker] has sent [A Drop The of Monster Blood].
Viewers: [4]
Item: A Drop of The Monster Blood
• Type: Consumable (Legendary)
• Rarity: Mythic
• Origin: Forged from the coagulated essence of a revenant who drank nations dry and laughed in the face of death. Bound, not slain, a single drop of his blood was sealed in a cursed vial. It still pulses with remembered carnage.
• Effects:
• Undying Flesh — You no longer age; mortal wounds knit shut.
• Dominion of the Night — Shadows cling to you; lesser minds tremble.
• Blood Echo — Hear the thoughts of those whose blood you've tasted.
• Drawback: The Hunger's Toll — Once per full moon, you must drink sentient blood. Miss it, and you'll fall into a blood rage. No one is safe.
"Ohhh wow. That's… really badass. You know what, Crimson? Yeah, I got you."
I kick.
***
The woman, relaxing after her meal, suddenly gasps as water gushes beneath her. "Oh, you little fuck, why now?" She grumbles, clutching her belly. She goes for the phone, calling her parents.
Thirty‑five minutes later, she's on a stretcher, wheeled into the delivery room. Her parents sit outside, nervous. For ten hours, the halls echo with screams, curses, and cries — until finally, a baby's wail pierces the air.