Morning arrived quietly.
Too quietly.
…Wait.
Something's wrong.
I sighed.
I was seated on the floor, surrounded by cushions I hadn't asked for but apparently required. Plush velvet, embroidered silk, pastel nonsense—an entire defensive perimeter designed to stop me from committing accidental suicide via gravity.
My legs kicked.
Nothing happened.
Right.
Still a baby.
Sunlight streamed through the tall arched windows of the villa, spilling across the polished marble floor like liquid gold. Dust motes floated lazily in the air, catching the light, drifting without purpose.
Peaceful.
Suspiciously so.
---
I tried standing.
My body wobbled.
I froze, arms spread wide, face locked in intense concentration—like this was some kind of life-or-death ritual instead of basic motor function.
I took one step.
And immediately tipped sideways into a cushion.
…Unacceptable.
Once, I outran causality.
Now I lost to furniture.
---
"Careful there, young master."
The voice came softly from behind me.
I turned.
Lilith stood near the doorway, sunlight framing her figure like a gentle halo. Her dark hair was neatly tied back, her uniform immaculate, her expression calm and endlessly patient.
For half a second—
The world tilted.
---
Fifth life.
The sky burned red.
The battlefield stretched endlessly, littered with broken bodies and shattered banners.
My family was already gone.
Lilith's hand had been the only warm thing left in that world.
She had pulled me through smoke and blood, her breath ragged, her grip unyielding.
"As long as I'm alive," she'd said, "you won't be alone."
She died protecting my back.
A blade through her chest.
She didn't scream.
---
I blinked.
The library hallway returned.
Clean.
Quiet.
Alive.
My small fingers curled against the floor.
…Still bad at this part.
---
Lilith knelt beside me, smiling warmly. "Trying to walk already?"
I puffed my cheeks and looked away.
Ambitious was one word for it.
She laughed softly and lifted me with practiced ease. Her arms were steady. Familiar.
"You're headed for the library again, aren't you?"
I stiffened.
She raised an eyebrow. "At your age?"
I made a small, noncommittal baby sound.
She smiled. "I'll take that as a yes."
---
The library doors opened silently.
Shelves towered above us, carved from ancient wood, their surfaces etched with faint glowing runes. Books lined the walls in orderly silence, their spines humming faintly with dormant Aura.
Sunlight filtered in through stained glass windows, casting fractured patterns of gold and blue across the floor.
She set me down near the lowest shelves.
As my feet touched the ground—
Something flickered.
---
Mounted beside the door was a small crystal disk, embedded neatly into the wall.
An Aura detector.
Simple.
Decorative.
Calibrated to ignore children.
It had never reacted to me.
Today—
It pulsed.
Once.
Brilliant neon light surged through the crystal—
Crack.
A clean fracture split it straight down the center.
The light died.
The room went still.
Lilith froze.
"…That's strange," she murmured.
I stared at the broken detector.
That device was rated for trained adults.
Not babies.
Not restrained Inner Dimensions.
Definitely not me.
---
Before she could move—
Hnnng.
A low metallic hum vibrated through the air.
I turned slowly.
Mounted above the central shelf was a ceremonial blade—a household artifact sealed in layered suppression wards. Its steel was dull by design, its hilt wrapped in aged leather etched with sigils.
It had never been drawn.
Never moved.
The blade trembled.
Just slightly.
The air around it rippled, as if reality itself had inhaled sharply.
Then—
Silence.
The sword went still.
The wards remained intact.
Nothing appeared out of place.
Except my heartbeat.
---
Lilith swallowed, then forced a smile. "It must be a malfunction. I'll have maintenance look into it."
She picked me up again, holding me a little tighter this time.
I didn't resist.
Inside, my thoughts moved quietly.
That sword shouldn't have reacted.
It wasn't sentient.
It wasn't awakened.
It didn't recognize bloodlines.
It recognized me.
---
I rested my head against Lilith's shoulder.
Her warmth was real.
Her breathing steady.
For now, she was alive.
That was enough.
My tiny fingers fumbled weakly, catching the edge of her sleeve.
Don't die this time.
The thought surfaced—then vanished.
I smiled faintly.
Apparently, even destiny was starting to make mistakes.