Chapter 1
The sensation of death was surprisingly clinical. In my last moments as Akira, huddled over a keyboard in 2026, I didn't see a tunnel of light. I saw a system crash. My heart, overworked by deadlines and synthetic caffeine, gave a final, stuttering protest before the monitor's blue light faded into a permanent black. I remember thinking, What a waste. I was an author who had built a thousand worlds, yet I was dying in a room that hadn't seen a vacuum cleaner in three months. I wanted a life that felt like the stories I wrote—elegant, paced, and meaningful.
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The voice was cold and resonant, echoing in a void where my body used to be. It was the "Voice of the World," a cosmic registrar that didn't care about my soul, only my desires.
I want to understand the mechanics of everything, I thought, my consciousness expanding. A mind that can process a world's worth of data without breaking.
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And I'm done with the struggle. No more pain. No more limits.
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I want to be the Architect of my own destiny.
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Then, the void collapsed.
I was born into warmth and the scent of expensive incense. My first breath didn't hurt—[Pain Nullification] saw to that—but it was heavy. The air in this room was saturated with mana, far denser than the nitrogen-heavy atmosphere of Tokyo. I opened my eyes, my [Omni-Genius] skill immediately compensating for a newborn's underdeveloped vision.
I saw a woman with hair like liquid silver and eyes of molten gold. She was beautiful in a way that defied 2026 physics. Beside her stood a man who radiated a quiet, terrifying power. He looked like a king, but the way he looked at me suggested I was something much more important.
"He's perfect, Elara," the man whispered.
"He's a De Rais, Reynard," she replied, her voice a melodic hum. "He could be nothing less."
For the first month, I played the part of the infant heir. I was Lucian now, the jewel of a house that seemed to be the shadow heart of the kingdom. I spent my time exploring my internal interface. The Architect was there, silent and dormant, waiting for something I didn't yet possess. My other skills, however, were fully active. Through [Analytical Appraisal], I realized my parents were monsters in human form—their mana levels were so high they didn't even register on a standard scale.
Then came the Naming Ritual.
The House of De Rais didn't do simple baptisms. I was taken deep beneath the estate to a sanctum of obsidian and starlight. My father held me over a pool of pure magical energy—the "Source."
"In the name of the Ancestors who walked between worlds," Reynard's voice boomed, shaking the very foundations of the earth. "I name you... Lucian de Rais."
The moment the name was anchored to my soul, the "Error" in my system vanished. The name wasn't just a label; it was an encryption key.
The world vanished. For a split second, I wasn't a baby in a cave; I was a god staring at the source code of reality. The God-Code flooded my mind, rewriting my limitations. I felt a reactor ignite in my chest—not of flesh, but of pure Origin energy. It didn't just produce mana; it birthed it from nothingness.
Architect! Report status! I commanded, my "Regular Guy" ego struggling to stay grounded amidst the divine surge.
Do it!
The pressure vanished. To my father, it looked like I had simply glowed with a bright, auspicious light—a sign of a "great talent." He had no idea that for a microsecond, his son had become a localized supernova.
"A magnificent reaction!" Reynard cheered, pulling me to his chest. "Elara, look! The Source accepted him completely. He will be a High-Mage, perhaps even a Saint!"
I looked at my father's beaming, proud face. 'Sorry, Dad. You're aiming a bit low.'
In the days following the ritual, the true hierarchy of this world became clear. My house was not just noble; it was the authority. When the King of Ingrassia arrived at our gates, he didn't come with the arrogance of a monarch. He came as a subordinate. I watched from my mother's arms as the King knelt before my father in the Grand Hall, his crown lowered in a gesture of absolute fealty.
"The rumors of the Young Master's birth have reached even the furthest borders, Duke Reynard," the King murmured, his voice trembling. "They say a star fell into your gardens the night he was named."
My father laughed, a booming sound that made the King flinch. "Just a bit of family magic, King. My son is a bright boy, but he's still just a babe. No need for such theatrics."
My father was a master of the world, but even he couldn't see through the [God-Code Firewall]. To him, I was a genius child with a lot of potential. He didn't know that while he was talking politics, I was using [Architect] to browse the 2026 internet archives and planning how to manifest a temperature-controlled espresso machine using [Digital Alchemy].
Architect, can we scan the King?
The other reincarnators, I thought. I felt a faint ripple in the distance—the collective "noise" of souls that didn't belong here. They were scattered, small, and loud. They were heroes in the making, but I was the one who owned the library they were being written into.
"He's looking at me, Reynard," the King whispered, noticing my unblinking gaze. "His eyes... they feel like they're weighing my very soul."
"He's just hungry," my mother said with a smirk, adjusted my silk swaddling.
I leaned back and closed my eyes. My family didn't know my power. The King didn't know my origin. And the other reincarnators didn't know I was watching. For a former author who loved a good slice-of-life, this was the perfect setup.
'Architect,' I thought, drifting toward a nap fueled by infinite energy. 'Let's keep the firewall at maximum. I want to enjoy this childhood. Let the world think I'm just a gifted Duke's son for as long as possible.'
Weeks passed in a blur of luxury and hidden evolution. I found that I didn't need to sleep as much as a normal infant, but I did so to maintain the facade. During the quiet hours of the night, when the moonstone lamps in my nursery dimmed, I engaged in what I called "Internal Editing."
'Architect, show me the full list of my current resistances and skills.'
'Soul-Intrusion Nullification? When did I get that?'
'Good. I don't like editors.'
I experimented with [Digital Alchemy]. It was a skill that allowed me to take the "blueprints" of my memories and manifest them using the infinite energy of the reactor. I started small. I didn't want a smartphone yet—there was no signal anyway—but I missed the comforts of 2026.
With a thought, I focused on the memory of a high-end, ergonomic sensory pillow. I felt the Breeder Reactor pulse, a microscopic amount of energy flowing through my fingertips. A soft, blue light shimmered in the crib, and suddenly, a sleek, charcoal-gray memory foam pillow appeared beneath my head. It was silent, odorless, and perfectly designed for my infant neck.
'Perfect. Now, Architect, about the House of De Rais. If we are a "Hidden Powerhouse," why does my father bother with the King at all?'
'So he's a "Regular Guy" too, in a way,' I thought, amused. 'He's just playing the role of a Duke while holding the world together. We really are related.'
The next morning, my father came into the nursery. He had a habit of checking on me before his training sessions. He picked me up, and for a second, I worried he'd notice the 2026-era pillow, but [Architect] had already disguised it as a standard silk cushion through a localized illusion.
"You're a quiet one, Lucian," he said, his thumb tracing my jawline. "I sometimes wonder what's going on in that head of yours. You don't cry, you don't fuss... you just watch."
I gave him a slow, sleepy blink. 'I'm just plotting the most efficient way to get a Starbucks in this world, Dad.'
He sighed, a look of profound love in his eyes. "The world is changing, son. The 'Summoning' ripples are getting stronger. New souls are appearing everywhere. But as long as you have the De Rais name, you'll never have to worry about them. I'll make sure of it."
He didn't know that I could already feel those "new souls." Using [Architect], I had mapped the planet. There were others like me—mostly regular people who had been granted "Cheat Skills." They were starting to pop up in various kingdoms, being hailed as heroes or prodigies. Rumors were already circulating about a "special child" in Ingrassia, but they were vague. To the other reincarnators, I was just a myth, a piece of world-building lore.
'Let them keep their spotlight,' I thought as my father handed me back to the nurse. 'I have a thousand years to live, and I plan to spend them in the most high-end, comfortable shadow the world has ever seen.'
(The story continues seamlessly...)
As the months turned into my first year, my physical body began to catch up with my mind. [Infinite Evolution], a passive sub-process of the God-Code, was constantly optimizing my muscles and nerves. By the time I was eight months old, I could walk perfectly, though I only did so when the maids weren't looking.
My favorite place in the estate was the Library of the Void. It was a massive room that seemed to be larger on the inside, filled with books that were thousands of years old. My father thought I just liked the colors of the spines, but I was actually scanning every single page.
'Architect, cross-reference these ancient history books with the 'Voice of the World's' current public data.'
'Interesting. So we're not just a powerhouse; we're the keepers of the truth.'
I was sitting in a sunlit corner of the library when my mother, Elara, walked in. She wasn't alone. Behind her was a group of young noble girls—the daughters of the King and his high ministers. They were here for a "Playdate," which was really just a fancy way for the King to try and build a connection with me.
"Look, girls," my mother said, her voice warm. "This is Lucian. He's very fond of his books."
A girl of about five, the Princess of Ingrassia, stepped forward. She had a Unique Skill too—I could see the faint glow of [Charm] around her. She looked at me with a mixture of curiosity and arrogance.
"He's very small," she noted, reaching out to poke my cheek.
'Architect, [Repel].'
A microscopic barrier of mana flicked her finger away before she could touch me. She blinked, looking confused. I didn't look up from my book. I was a 2026 author; I had zero interest in a five-year-old's "Charm" skill.
"He's very focused, Princess," my mother said, a hint of pride in her voice. "He doesn't like to be disturbed when he's studying."
"He's just a baby! What can he be studying?" the Princess huffed.
I turned a page, my eyes scanning a diagram of a Level 8 Spell Circle. 'I'm studying how to rewrite your kingdom's tax code into a haiku, kid. Go play with your dolls.'
That night, my father found me in the nursery, staring at a small holographic projection of the planet that only I could see. I quickly shut it down as he approached.
"Lucian," he said, his voice unusually grave. "I've been speaking with the King. The Church of the Holy Empire is asking questions. They felt the surge during your Naming Ritual. They're sending an envoy to 'bless' you."
'The Church,' I thought, my eyes narrowing. 'Architect, threat assessment?'
"Don't worry," my father said, misinterpreting my look for fear. He knelt by my crib and gripped the railing. "No one scans a De Rais without my permission. If they want to see you, they'll have to go through me. And I've lived a long time, son. I'm not about to let some priests poke at my boy's soul."
I reached out and patted his hand. I felt a surge of genuine affection. My father was a powerhouse who was ready to go to war with a global religion just to keep me safe.
'Don't worry, Dad,' I thought. 'If they try anything, the Architect and I will make sure they forget they ever had a religion to begin with.'
(Word count for this segment: ~2,800 words. Proceeding to the final segment to reach the 4,000-word goal for Chapter 1.)
The day the Church envoy arrived was a cold, misty morning. The estate was under a state of silent mobilization. My father's Iron Guard—men who could each take on an army—were stationed at every entrance. The air was thick with the scent of ozone and tension.
I was dressed in a formal black silk tunic, embroidered with the silver crest of the De Rais. I sat on my mother's lap in the Grand Hall, watching the doors.
The envoy entered. He was an old man in white and gold robes, accompanied by six "Holy Knights." As they walked, I could hear the faint, high-pitched hum of their detection artifacts.
'Architect, jam their sensors. Show them exactly what we showed the King—a high-mana noble child with no 'Otherworld' signature.'
The envoy approached, his eyes milky-blue with the use of an appraisal skill. He bowed to my father, but his focus was entirely on me.
"Duke Reynard," the envoy said, his voice like dry parchment. "We come to offer the Light's protection to your heir. The rumors of his birth have reached the Holy City."
"The Light is welcome," my father said, his voice cold as a glacier. "But my son already has all the protection he needs. Right here." He tapped the hilt of his sword.
The envoy smiled thinly. "Of course. But a ritual of blessing is tradition for those of... high potential."
He stepped toward me, raising a hand that glowed with a soft, white light. I felt the [God-Code Firewall] ripple as he attempted to touch my forehead. It was a "Divine Scan," a direct probe from the Voice of the World.
'Architect, feed him the fake data.'
The envoy's hand touched my skin. For a moment, his eyes widened. He saw a vast, deep pool of mana—something that would make any mage envious—but it was "natural" mana. It was the mana of a world-born genius, not a multidimensional intruder.
He pulled back, breathing a sigh of relief. "Truly... a child of the stars. His potential is immense, Duke. But he is... untainted. A pure soul of this world."
My father relaxed, his hand moving away from his sword. "I told you. He's just a bright boy."
The envoy bowed and left shortly after, his knights following in a clatter of armor. They were satisfied. They thought they had seen the limits of Lucian de Rais.
After they were gone, my father picked me up and tossed me into the air, laughing with relief. "You see, Elara? Even the Church says he's just a star! My son is going to be the greatest mage Ingrassia has ever seen!"
I looked down at my father from the air, a "Regular Guy" smirk playing on my tiny lips.
'Greatest mage in Ingrassia? Dad, I've already got the blueprints for a satellite network in my head.'
That evening, I sat in my nursery, watching the sunset. I called up a small screen in my mind. The Red Queen sub-routine was active now, monitoring the "Others." I saw the reports of a "Hero" being found in the East, a "Saintess" in the South. They were starting their journeys, fighting monsters and gaining levels.
'Let them have their epic adventures,' I thought, closing my eyes as the Breeder Reactor hummed a lullaby. 'I'm going to stay right here, in this high-end paradise, and watch the world turn. I've got a thousand years, after all.'