One moment, Daniel was a wisp of screaming purple energy hurtling through a cosmic tear; the next, his entire universe collapsed into a single, agonizingly sharp intake of breath. The air felt thick, sweet, and terrifyingly real.
He tried to scream—to curse the hooded figure, to demand answers from him—but the sound that left his throat was a high-pitched, pathetic wail. It was the sound of a creature that hadn't yet learned how to hold its own weight.
He is breathing, he is breathing, thank God.
The voice was like honey compared to the dry voice of the hooded killer. Daniel blinked, his vision a blurred kaleidoscope of gold and cream. The harsh, flickering neon of his old life was gone, replaced by the soft, warm glow of magical lamps that hummed with a low, rhythmic pulse.
He was being held and cradled in arms that trembled with a terrifying amount of love and joy.
"Look at him, Silas," a woman's voice whispered, thick with exhaustion and joy. "His eyes... they aren't blue like yours."
A man's face leaned into Daniel's field of vision. This wasn't the "average" face Daniel saw in the mirrors of 2050. This man had sharp, aristocratic features, smooth white skin, and hair the color of white. He wore silk robes that smelled of cinnamon and distant ports.
"They're... crimson," the man, Silas, whispered. He reached out a finger, calloused from counting coins and checking manifests, and gently stroked Daniel's cheek. "A deep, crimson. Is it a blessing from the gods?"
I'm not in a novel, Daniel realized, his tiny heart hammering against his ribs. I'm in a body. I'm reborn.
"His name," the woman said. Daniel felt her heartbeat through her chest. It was steady, warm, and inviting—everything his previous life had lacked. "We agreed on Alaric, if he was a boy."
"Alaric Silverlane," Silas affirmed, a proud smile breaking across his face. "The future of the Silverlane merchant House. He will want for nothing, Elara. He will have everything in his life."
He doesn't understand their language, but he can guess to some extent.
Daniel—now Alaric—looked up at his new parents. They were beautiful. They were kind. They looked at him with the adoration he had envied in people on Earth.
But as he tried to relax into his mother's warmth, a cold ripple moved through his veins. Deep within his mind, a spark of Balzar's essence flickered.
[Seed of Destruction Initialized]
[Host Name: Alaric Silverlane (formerly Daniel)]
[Status: Dormant]
The system screen appeared before his eyes.
Alaric was shocked. fuck" I have a system.
Alaric always dreamed of having a system, just like any protagonist. His dream is finally coming true. And "Seed of Destruction," what is that?
System, what is that?
...
...
Why System is not replying?
Daniel checked the screen and found that System was in a dormant state.
What should I do to activate the system
It looks like I have to find that myself.
But how can I find with newborn child body.
Damn. It looks like I have to wait for my body to grow to some extent to learn about this world and my family.
______________
After six months
The transition from a supermarket employee to a merchant's infant son was a lesson in forced patience. For six months, Alaric lived a life of soft blankets, the scent of expensive oils, and the constant, doting presence of Elara and Silas.
He was born as the eldest son of the Silverlane family, which owns a big-sized merchant company.
He learned the rhythm of the Silverlane household, the clinking of gold coins in the counting room downstairs, the chime of the mana-lamps at dusk, and the peculiar, lyrical cadence of the world's language.
While he couldn't speak, his thirty-year-old mind was a sponge, soaking up every syllable until the "babble" of his parents became clear, structured sentences.
His mother always told him about this world and its history.
Feeling the warmth of his mother was the biggest joy of his life, which he always yearned for in his past life.
His father also loved him dearly. But because of his father's work and duties, he could not be present for some time.
In six months, he learned that the world he reincarnated into, called Myrhia, was home to elves, humans, dwarves, dragons, and many other species.
In this world, demons exits too.
Alaric sat propped up against a pile of silk cushions, his crimson eyes fixed on the translucent screen hovering in his vision. It was a sight only he could see, a mocking reminder of the figure who had murdered him.
[Status: Dormant]
[Synchronization: 0%]
"Still nothing," he thought, his infant brow furrowing in a look of intense concentration that usually made his nanny coo about how "serious" he looked.
He had tried everything to wake the system. He'd tried "meditating" which usually resulted in a nap, "channeling energy" which usually resulted in a dirty diaper, and even mental screaming. The system remained a silent tombstone.
He heard the footsteps outside his room.
The heavy oak door creaked open. Silas walked in, looking weary but successful. He was followed by a man draped in charcoal-grey robes—a Mana-Seer.
"Are you sure about this, Silas?" Elara asked, hovering near the doorway. "He's only six months old. Most children aren't tested until they're five."
The Silverlane family is a merchant family; therefore, they many don't powerful ally . In the family, Silas and Elara don't have enough potential to become Grandmaster
Or Saint.
Silas always wants to have a saint rank powerhouse in the family.
A powerful can protect and secure a family's future.
"Those eyes, Elara," Silas whispered, his voice tinged with a mixture of pride and underlying anxiety. "The crimson hasn't faded. In fact, they seem to glow when he's frustrated. If he has a high mana-affinity, we need to start his foundations early. The Silverlane House needs a powerful ally, not just a merchant."
The Seer approached the cradle. He pulled a small, jagged crystal from his sleeve—a potential orb.
"Don't worry, little Master," the Seer muttered, his voice gravelly. "This will only ting—"
The moment the Seer's hand neared Alaric's forehead, the dormant screen in Alaric's vision didn't just flicker; Shattered.
[ External Mana Detected ]
[ Threat Level: Negligible ]
[ Condition Met: Host attempted to be 'measured' by an inferior soul ]
[ System Initializing... ]
[ Warning: Pure Destruction Essence detected in Host's marrow ]
A sudden, violent heat surged through Alaric's tiny veins. It wasn't the warmth of a hearth; it was the searing heat of a forge. The potential orb in the Seer's hand began to vibrate violently, turning from clear to a muddy, suffocating black.
"What is this?" the Seer gasped, his eyes widening. "The orb... it's absorbing nothing! It's being... destroyed?"
Boom.
The orb didn't break; it turned to fine, grey ash that drifted onto the expensive rug.
No one noticed that some particular potential orb mana particles were absorbed into Alaric's body.
[System Active]
[Welcome, host ]
[Seed of Destruction assimilating to host body]
Assimilating time: 6 hours, 59 minutes.
So it will take 7 hours.
After closing the system window, Alaric began to see the commotion he had caused.
The room once beautiful has beds and soft light was suddenly gripped by a chilling silence. The fine, grey ash of the potential checking orb—a tool worth more than a commoner's lifetime earnings—sifted through the Seer's trembling fingers.
The Mana-Seer, a man who had measured the potential of hundreds of noble children, recoiled as if he had been burned. His face, usually a mask of professional indifference, was pale.
My goodness..." he whispered, his voice cracking.
"That shouldn't be possible."
Silas stepped forward, his boots clicking sharply on the hardwood.
"What happened, Master Vane? Why did the potential orb crumble? Is Alaric's mana pool too large for the crystal?"
Vane didn't answer immediately. He looked down at the infant Alaric, who was staring back with those unblinking, crimson eyes. To Silas, it was the gaze of a precocious child; to the Seer, it felt like staring into a bottomless abyss that was hungry for light.
"It didn't break because of volume, Master Silverlane, Vane said, his voice dropping to a fearful murmur.
"A orb breaks when it is full. This orb... it vanished. It was unmade. I felt a force for a split second that felt less like mana and more like an ending."