The morning light filtered through the canopy of the Forbidden Forest, dappling the small clearing where a modest house stood. Inside, chaos reigned.
"RIGAS! STYX! WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT USING MAGIC INDOORS?!"
Piers sat cross-legged on the floor in the corner of the main room, a three-year-old boy with golden-blonde hair and dull gray eyes that held no light. He watched his mother, Xylia, lift both his father and sister by their collars—one in each hand—as if they weighed nothing more than kittens. Her long violet-black hair swayed behind her, gray eyes blazing with fury.
"But Mama," Styx whined, her stubby legs kicking in the air, "Papa said he could make the water dance! I wanted to see!"
"It was educational hehe!" Rigas added, his face flushed with embarrassment. A grown man with a blazing mane of bright blonde hair and broad shoulders, dangling like a scolded child.
The bucket of water they'd been "experimenting" with had exploded across half the kitchen. Droplets still dripped from the ceiling.
Xylia's eye twitched. "Educational. Right. And I suppose flooding the kitchen teaches what, exactly? How to drown in your own stupidity?"
Piers blinked slowly. Once. His expression didn't change.
He'd been watching this same scene play out for three years now. Different variations, same result. Rigas and Styx would do something dumb. Xylia would scold them. They'd apologize. Tomorrow, they'd do it again.
Day 1124 Still performing the same routine. I wonder if they know they're predictable, or if that's just what normal families do.
"Piers, sweetheart, are you alright?" Xylia's voice instantly softened as she dropped the troublemakers and rushed to his side, crouching down to examine him with worried eyes. "You didn't get wet, did you? Did the loud noise scare you? Are you cold? Hungry? Do you need—"
"'M fine," Piers said quietly.
His voice was soft, monotone. He'd learned early that minimal responses satisfied her fastest. Too much silence made her worry. Too many words made her ask questions.
"Are you sure? You look pale. Should I make you soup? I have those herbs Rigas gathered yesterday—well, the ones he didn't accidentally burn—"
Xylia paused mid-sentence, studying her son's distant expression. She knew that look. Without a word, she scooped him up gently and carried him to the chair by the window. His favorite spot.
She set him down on the cushioned seat, adjusting his position so he could see outside clearly. "There. Better?"
Piers didn't answer, but he didn't protest either. His gaze had already drifted to the window.
"Mama, I'm fine too!" Styx chimed in, her blue eyes bright as she bounced back to her feet. "See? No hurt!"
She held up her arms to show she was unharmed, accidentally putting her hand through the wall in her enthusiasm. The wood splintered. She froze.
"Oops."
Rigas groaned. "Styx, that's the third wall this month."
"You BLASTED the barn door with magic last week!" Styx shot back.
"That was different! There was a corrupted spider!"
"IT WAS TINY!"
Xylia's face went through several interesting color changes. Red. Purple. A concerning shade of crimson.
Piers didn't bother turning around. The window was more interesting than whatever explosion was about to happen.
Beyond the glass, he could see it—the faint shimmer in the air that marked the barrier surrounding their home. It pulsed gently, a transparent dome of protective magic that his father maintained. According to the fragmentary memories he still possessed from his second life, it was a high-level ward. The kind that required constant mana infusion to sustain.
The barrier kept the forest's monsters away. Father maintained it every day. Just another part of living here.
His gaze drifted to the trees beyond. The Forbidden Forest. A place where monsters supposedly roamed, where the unwary vanished without a trace. Yet in three years, he'd never seen anything approach the barrier.
At least, not until recently.
The attacks had started two months ago. Small ones at first. A corrupted beast scratching at the dome's edge. A shadow-thing that dissipated when Rigas reinforced the barrier. But they were coming more frequently now. Every few days instead of every few weeks.
Piers knew why.
It was because of him.
[NULL SYSTEM ACTIVE]
The translucent window appeared in his vision, visible only to him. It had been there since the moment he'd woken in this third life, three years ago, screaming in an infant's body with memories he could barely hold onto.
[STATUS]
Name: Piers
Age: 3
Race: Human (?)
Title: Incarnation of the Void
Core Attribute:
Infinite Mana (Cursed)
Fragment of S�ေ̹̈́͜ḩ̸�pool̶�alpine̸̞̓a̸̰̐d̷͚̈́ó̷̮
Void Corruption Level: 47%
Current State: Emotional Severance [PARTIAL]
Active Effects:
Pain Immunity
Hyper-Focus
Emotional Dampening (Moderate)
Mana Beacon [WARNING: ATTRACTING HOSTILES]
Piers dismissed the window with a mental flick. He'd simply acknowledged it existed and moved on. That was three years ago.
The goddess—if that's what she'd been—had explained it during his brief moment of awareness between death and rebirth. His second life's infinite mana hadn't disappeared. It had evolved. Twisted into something that consumed emotion as fuel and radiated a signal that drew monsters like moths to flame.
Your emptiness calls to them, she'd said, her voice echoing in the void. The more you hollow yourself out, the stronger you become. But lose yourself completely, and you'll forget why you started walking this path at all.
Rino.
The name flickered in his mind, accompanied by the ghost of a feeling. His little sister. Eight years old. Brown hair in pigtails. A smile that—
The memory fragmented, slipping away like water through his fingers.
Piers felt nothing as it vanished.
He'd learned not to chase those fragments. Chasing them only made them disappear faster.
"Piers?"
He turned his head. Styx had plopped down beside him, her explosion of golden hair sticking out in every direction. She grinned at him, gap-toothed and cheerful, completely ignoring her mother's lecture in the background.
"Wanna play?"
"No."
"Wanna go outside?"
"Can't. Barrier."
"Wanna help me catch a frog?"
"There are no frogs inside the house."
"There could be! Papa brought one in last week!"
Piers looked at her. She looked back, expectant and bright blue-eyed.
He felt nothing.
But some distant, analytical part of his mind noted that she reminded him of someone. The shape of her smile. The way she tilted her head.
Did Rino do that?