I awoke, greeted by an intense light that made it difficult to keep my eyes open. The brightness stung. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting until the discomfort disappeared, then cautiously opened them again. Despite my efforts, the world outside remained overwhelmingly bright. In a cycle of opening and closing my eyes, I persisted until that lightness became familiar, and my vision gradually sharpened.

Before me stood a blonde-haired girl, an unfamiliar presence. She seemed worn out, as if she had just completed an immensely exhausting task. Her eyes carried a drowsy weight, accompanied by noticeable bags beneath her blue gaze, as an evidence of a sleepless night. Yet, even in such a fatigued state, she had an undeniable charm. No... Scratch that, she was stunning: A girl one might expect to find gracing the pages of a magazine as a model.

A second person, a young man, entered into my view. His light brown hair catching the light and his expressive green eyes drawing my attention. His smile and the palpable energy he emanated made it seem as if he might burst with happiness at the mere sight of me. Watching him draw closer, a broad smile etched across his face, I sensed his hands reaching out, lifting me with an evident enthusiasm.

What on earth is going on? How is he able to hold me with such effortless strength? It seems like he must possess considerable power... Yet, something seems off. Perhaps it's a matter of perspective, but both this guy and the woman who had me earlier are massive. I get the sense that his hands alone could envelop my entire body. Granted, I'm not the tallest person around, more on the short side, but this just defies logic. Is this some sort of family of giants?

Wait a moment! I'm getting sidetracked. This towering fellow is drawing nearer, his lips poised for a kiss. What's gotten into him? How could he even think of kissing a complete stranger like this? I need to put a stop to it. Shoving my hands forward, I attempt to halt his colossal face from advancing, but...

What?

Smack*

As I caught sight of my own hands, realization washed over me. It's not a case of them being giants; it's more like I've been reduced to the size of an infant. My hands are as tiny as a newborn's. The situation grows more bewildering with every passing moment. I tried to dig into my memories, attempting to get more insight about this perplexing turn of events. The last thing I can recall are the shrill wail of an ambulance siren and the blinding red and blue lights. Then, upon reopening my eyes, I found myself cradled in the arms of that girl. Is this some form of reincarnation, I wonder?

"Zirnok iv Zenith. Ketha shalathar nithrak."

My stream of thoughts abruptly halted as I heard the guy converse with the girl who had been holding me earlier. His words, however, were completely foreign to me, a language that seemed entirely unfamiliar compared to anything I had known in my previous life.

Following his brief exchange with the girl, the guy placed me gently into what appeared to be a wooden cradle. He maintained that smile, his gaze fixed on me. Gradually, he faded from view, replaced by a third person... A red-haired maid wearing glasses. She briefly laid a warm cloth on my body before departing. The cradle settled into a peaceful stillness, giving me the opportunity to reflect further on the events that had happened.

However, that sense of peace didn't last long, at least according to my own estimation. After a mere few minutes, the guy came back to the cradle, cradling yet another baby in his arms. He positioned the infant right beside me, and the maid, who followed him, repeated the process of laying a cloth over the new arrival, mirroring what had been done for me.

Turning my head to the right, I cast a curious gaze upon this additional baby. My attention locked onto their features, as I meticulously examined each aspect of their face. Strikingly, they bore a striking resemblance to the guy: Light brown hair, those expressive green eyes... And they were proportioned much like myself. It didn't take much for me to piece together the puzzle, to connect the dots. It appeared that this was my sibling, twin sibling, and that pair of people beaming down into the cradle, with expressions that could only be described as foolishly joyful, most likely were my new parents.

Yes, this must be it.
It's clear to me now.
This is reincarnation.

A month or two have passed, and by this point, I had grown more accustomed to the peculiar circumstances that had become my day to day reality. It became clear that I was indeed the offspring of those two people, Paul and Zenith. I must confess, it feels somewhat odd for them to hold the roles of parents at such a young age. They're approximately the same age as I was when I died, and I could never have imagined myself becoming a parent at that age. I'm scared to think about the potential struggles of dealing with a child at such a young point in life... What a horrible experience could have been. Despite me being one a baby, I must admit, I've never held much fondness for those little troublemakers. Yet, regardless of my feelings, who am I to judge their life choices?

I also started to gather more information about the world surrounding me. Gradually, I found myself understanding the language my parents spoke. Strangely enough, in my previous life, I was trilingual, but despite that I had a deep aversion to language learning... I despised it through and through. But in this fresh vessel, I seemed to be grasping the language at a far more rapid pace than I'd ever managed in my former life. Perhaps that's a sort of power reserved for infants.

My limited but crucial understanding of the local language allowed me to learn my new parents' names. However, despite being able to understand fragments of their conversations, I remained clueless about the specific location I found myself in.

Details about this place eluded me, leaving me with the impression that I could be situated anywhere, based on their dialogue. What was certain was that I had not landed in a developed nation. Our house was a small hut, with no utilities: no water or sewage infrastructure, no access to electricity or gas. It was as if I had been transported back in time to an era where houses consisted of four wooden walls capped by a thatched roof. In fact, this description isn't far from reality; it matches the appearance of this very hut. Although I must say that my knowledge of this house is severely restricted. I can't move freely, at least for the time being, and my experiences have been confined to the kitchen and the bedroom.

The days have settled into a rather monotonous rhythm, with the only noteworthy occurrences being Zenith's moans during nighttime... I fear I might eventually become quite traumatized if I grow up in this environment...

Another half-year passed by, and I had achieved the milestone of being able to crawl around the house in total freedom... Well, to some extent. My mother's watchful eye was a constant presence, vigilantly tracking the movements of both my twin brother and me. We couldn't stray too far without her launching a search, her expression a mix of concern and worry. It was an understandable behavior, in my view, given her role as a mother.

Speaking about my brother, there was something about him that eluded my comprehension, I struggled to pinpoint exactly what it was. Perhaps it was his peculiar behavior, yet it was more than that. It seemed as though there was a depth to him that transcended his appearance, almost as if he possessed an age beyond what his physical form suggested. Much like myself, in a way.

"As soon as you take your eyes off of him he slips off somewhere." Came my mother's voice from the far side of the kitchen.

Yes, I was now able to comprehend their words with perfect clarity, even though I wasn't able to speak yet. This accomplishment stood as one of the most significant milestones achieved during these past months, alongside mastering the art of crawling.

My mother, Zenith, moved restlessly, her demeanor etched with concern, as she paced back and forth, diligently searching for my twin brother. Meanwhile, my father, Paul, was playing with me.

Rudy and I, as typical twin siblings, were stark contrasts when it came to behavior. He embodied an exuberant spirit, darting about ceaselessly: Downstairs, upstairs, there was no place of the house safe from his insatiable curiosity. On the flip side, there was me... More prone to laziness. The act of crawling itself was quite exhausting, navigating through the house felt like undertaking one of the most fatiguing feats I'd ever encountered. My short limbs didn't provide much assistance either. Given the choice, I'd rather be carried around by Zenith or Lilia, the red-haired maid, than exert myself to crawl big distances across the house.

Sadly, my parents seemed to misjudge my laziness for calmness.

"At least he's healthy and thriving," Paul responded to Zenith's remark. "I was quite concerned when he was born... No cries at all. Yet, it appears he's perfectly well."

He shifted his attention to me, a warm smile gracing his face.

"On the other hand, Kael, you are quite the crybaby."

Paul's words held a certain truth, a truth I couldn't deny. But please, allow me to clarify: I'm not exactly a crybaby! You see, the discomfort of a wet diaper or the incessant itchiness of the bed and clothes, not to mention the way the food tastes... These are challenges beyond your imagination. The absence of basic hygiene, safety protocols, or any form of modern technology has me feeling perpetually ill at ease.

Truth be told, I'm not fond of this situation at all. My mind throbs as I consider the dirty and dangerous nature of this environment, it's not the place you would raise up a kid. It's possible that the reincarnation has rewired something in my brain, prompting me to weep at every inconvenience I just mentioned, yet...

I'm not a crybaby! Even though my tears seem to flow rather frequently...

Life continued along its usual course, marked by routine. Weeks passed without any noteworthy events, until one day I found myself gazing out the window at our house's garden. This spot usually remained unoccupied, providing me with ample opportunity to enjoy the tranquility of the landscape.

The view before me was nothing short of breathtaking. A vast expanse of green stretched out, creating an almost surreal sea of vibrant greenery. It was the kind of pastoral scene I had only seen in paintings during my previous life. This scenery consisted of cultivated and uncultivated fields, with huts, resembling our own house, scattered all around the place. This picturesque scene stood in stark contrast to any semblance of urbanization. The complete absence of lampposts or any form of technological infrastructure only increased my conviction that the country I found myself in was significantly underdeveloped. It became increasingly apparent that this wasn't solely our family adopting a Spartan lifestyle; the entire region seemed to lack the advancements of electricity and modern technology.

One day, that scenery was different.

Gazing out the window, I observed Paul engrossed in training with a longsword. He was swinging the weapon with such ease, making it seem as if its weight was negligible. The elegance with which he wielded the sword defied conventional understanding, as if it were an extension of his own body, as his own arm, rather than a mere inanimate object.

Are you kidding me? Swords? I'm fairly certain that what he's doing would be considered a crime back in my former country. This lunatic is swinging a sword around outside his house as if it's the most mundane thing in the world. Is he out of his mind? Could it be that carrying swords around is legal here? Or some sort of local tradition...? Imagine strolling through the village and stumbling upon someone ready to chop off your head. Mental note to self: Avoid going outdoors until I'm capable enough to survive encounters with these crazy sword-wielding fanatics.

As I watched Paul, with a mix of concern and fascination in my gaze, something moved the chair I occupied. My head turned, revealing Rudy's presence as he clambered up the chair, clearly curious to know what had captured my attention.

As I mentioned a few months ago, Rudy has always been peculiar, to say the least. His actions and demeanor are anything but conventional, and merely being in his company fills me with an unsettling sense of strangeness.

I'll admit, I don't particularly like spending time around him. There's an underlying unease that accompanies his presence, one that leaves me feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

He had settled onto the chair, now positioned correctly beside me, his gaze locked onto Paul. I struggled to make sense of the events that unfolded after that, as the next memory that I had was of him slipping from the chair, tumbling downward. I watched as he attempted to clutch the chair's handle, his efforts proving fruitless, likely due to his small and weak arms unable to sustain his weight. The next moments felt as though they stretched into an eternity. He plummeted to the ground with a bump, and a faint cry escaping his lips.

That was the first time I heard him cry, albeit it didn't last for long.

"Rudy! Are you okay?!" I witnessed Zenith hurriedly making her way to his side with a concerned look on her face. She gathered him up into her arms, her gaze fixed upon him for a moment before she gently caressed his head. Her features softened, relief replacing the initial worry as she reassured him, "There, there, you're alright, you see?"

Then, I saw her resting a hand on Rudy's head, a serious expression overtaking her features. She spoke a series of words that I could only describe as a chant. "Let this divine power be as satisfying nourishment, giving one who has lost their strength the strength to rise again... Healing!"

What was that chant? I found myself mentally chuckling at her words. Could it be a form of prayer that the people in this country resorted to in order to alleviate pain? Like the kind of thing you say to children to divert their attention from pain when they get hurt?

As I was mentally mocking that chant, something unexpected happened within the walls of the kitchen. I witnessed a radiant emerald glow envelop both mother and Rudy, the brilliance emanating directly from Zenith's hand. Even Rudy, much like myself, seemed to be staring around with a sense of disbelief, then his gaze fixed on our mother with a mixture of astonishment and confusion.

"See, all better now." The moment the light vanished, Zenith grinned broadly as she affectionately patted Rudy's head. The concern that had etched her features when she found Rudy on the ground had now evaporated entirely. "You know, Mommy used to be quite a renowned adventurer back in the day."

Her proud declaration got stuck into my mind. Magic? Adventurer? Was my mother a magician? A cleric, perhaps? Was this some sort of joke?

"What on earth just occurred?" Paul promptly stepped into the house, seeking for further explanation. "I spotted the glow from outside. Is everything alright?"

"Honey, you need to be more cautious," Zenith explained, her tone laced with concern. "Our boys made their way up onto the chair just to catch a glimpse of you training, and Rudy ended up falling. He could have been seriously hurt."

In contrast to Zenith, Paul seemed considerably more composed in response to the incident.

"Hey... Boys will be boys. We can't tether them down and expect them to stay put. They need to wander, explore their own little world within this house. Falling, stumbling, and acquiring bumps and bruises is all part of the process that toughens them up. And besides, even if they do get hurt, you can heal them up without a hitch."

"What if they get hurt so badly that I can't mend them? They're not even a year old yet."

"They'll be alright," Paul reassured Zenith, enveloping her in a tender embrace. The next display of affection was a familiar routine... An exaggerated demonstration of their bond. They had a habit of solving any disagreements with embraces and kisses... a behavior that led them to certain intimacies that I, as a child, can't explain.

I can only say that it was sickening.

But... Magic, huh? So this world has magic?

As I gazed out the window at the pastoral landscape that I had initially judged as underdeveloped, I now saw it through a different lens. Even my father's training held a different meaning under this new perspective.

Yes, it finally clicked.

This isn't Earth. It's an entirely distinct realm. A world where swords and magic intertwine.

A fantasy world.