The last thing he remembered was that endless fluorescent hum. The lab had felt empty that night—too empty, honestly. Just stainless steel, vials lined up in neat rows, monitors blinking an unbothered green. He'd stayed late, chasing after a volatile compound he swore would change everything. He always thought understanding was worth the gamble.
He never saw the crack in the flask.
He didn't catch the sudden shift in pressure.
He just noticed the heat.
A burst of white. A gut-punch explosion. The sharp taste of metal and smoke on his tongue.
Then—nothing.
—
He woke up crying.
Not in a hospital bed. Not zipped into a body bag. In a crib.
His arms and legs weren't really his—too small, clumsy, useless. Every breath burned, the air sharp and too clean. He tried to ask where he was, but all that came out was a helpless wail.
He understood right away.
Reincarnation.
It sounded impossible, but his old mind clung to whatever scraps it could find. Equations, lab routines, the sting of ethanol in his nose. But now, he couldn't even lift his own head.
Time crawled. Days spilled into months.
He learned helplessness before he ever learned to talk. His new parents' voices came through as meaningless noise. His body slowly figured things out—rolling over, crawling, standing up on shaky legs.
But something felt off.
Even as a toddler, he noticed it. The air pressed in, thick with something no one else seemed to notice. At night, shadows bunched up around him. The whole room felt charged, like a storm was waiting just out of reach.
By three, he knew it wasn't his imagination.
Energy clung to him—heavy, restless, impossible to ignore.
By five, he could walk without stumbling. He could put together sentences, even if they came out rough and awkward. His old memories started to blur at the edges, but his knack for observation stuck around.
So he watched.
Sometimes the air would ripple, tiny distortions just out of focus. When he really paid attention, he felt something invisible moving through him, like blood surging under pressure.
It was overwhelming.
His body was frail, nothing special.
But inside, something huge waited.
He didn't know the words for it—cursed energy, sorcerers, curses. None of that meant anything yet.
He just knew this:
Last time, curiosity blew him apart.
This time, power thrummed under his skin.
And if he didn't figure it out, it'd finish what the explosion started.