Jack's frustration simmered as he watched the people around him speak, their words nothing more than gibberish. He couldn't understand a single thing they said.
'Oh, great,' he thought, irritated. 'So now I've got to learn a whole new language too?'
He hypothesized that his brain, still too tender and undeveloped, would gradually pick up the language with time. At least, he hoped so.
'Hopefully...'
Maria, the midwife, carefully cradled Jack and placed him in Arwen's arms. The warmth of his mother's embrace enveloped him, but it stirred something unsettling. This comfort—he had never felt it with his first mother in his previous life. And then, a strange familiarity tugged at the corners of his mind as he gazed up at her.
'Green eyes, auburn hair, a face like a portrait out of a dream,' Jack's thoughts raced. 'Pointed nose, perky pink lips... wait a minute.'
His eyes narrowed as he studied her features more closely. 'No way. She looks exactly like…'
A fragment of a memory surfaced—he had seen this face before. Not in reality, but in the pages of a fantasy book he once read. A book where angels and humans mingled, a world where magic flowed freely.
'Don't tell me...' The possibility ran through his mind, but he dismissed it quickly. The Great One hadn't mentioned anything about dropping him into a fictional world.
'Besides, that's impossible. That world couldn't really exist. No way.'
Still, doubts crept in. After all, how many things had he thought were impossible, only to be proven wrong? His thoughts swirled, but there was one flaw in his memory—he had skipped the first chapter of the book. It had been partially torn, so he'd jumped ahead. Now, that missing piece gnawed at him.
Arwen's voice broke through his musings. "Don't worry, my son. With me as your mother, you will be great." Her gaze was gentle, her voice soothing, and for a moment, Jack was caught off guard.
The smile she gave him was blinding, full of warmth and pride.
'Well, damn,' Jack thought, taken aback by her beauty. 'My new mom is… hot.'
Not that he'd ever admit it. His pride wouldn't allow it, no matter how true it was.
"Get your sticky, affectionate hands off me before you infect me with your optimism!" he cursed inwardly. But his outward reaction—tiny squeals and squirming—only made Arwen and Maria coo over him more.
Maria laughed softly. "He's such a handsome little thing, my lady. You've given birth to a future heartbreaker."
Her words annoyed Jack even more. He glared up at them, though his glare looked more like a pout.
Playboy? If jack was to hear their words he would surely burst into a loud laugh. If only they knew.
Maria suddenly excused herself, leaving the room to inform Lord Aldermond of the baby's birth. Arwen held Jack closer, her eyes filled with love and something deeper—hope.
Jack could see it, the depth of emotion behind her gaze. It wasn't just love for a newborn. It was something more. He recognized it immediately.
Pain. Longing. A need for redemption.
It was the same look he had seen in his own eyes in his past life, the one that had driven him to hate humanity and all its failings. But there was something different in her eyes—a flicker of hope that he had long since lost.
'She's not broken yet,' Jack realized. And in that realization, he scoffed. 'She still believes in something.'
For a fleeting moment, he almost felt a connection to her. Almost. But he shoved it away. "Sympathy is for the weak," he muttered to himself, trying to ignore the growing warmth in his chest. Yet, it wasn't so easy this time.
To distract himself, Jack thought back to the magic he had witnessed earlier. It was nothing short of unbelievable. Having lived in a world ruled by technology in his previous life, the existence of magic was astounding. It defied every law of nature he had known.
His mind buzzed with the possibilities. What could he do with this new power? How far could he push it?
Meanwhile, Arwen marveled at the shifting expressions on her son's face. She was captivated by the life in his azure eyes, unaware that those same eyes hid the soul of a man much older than they seemed.
Suddenly, a soft glow filled the room, and a tall figure appeared as the light dimmed. Aldermond. His long green hair shimmered, and his eyes—those piercing, nature-bound eyes—held a power that made Arwen's heart flutter. The same eyes that had captured her years ago.
Jack, on the other hand, immediately sensed the change in the air. The warmth in the room thickened, sickeningly sweet. He scowled.
'Love.'
Ugh. He hated it. The atmosphere reeked of it, the emotion he despised most. Watching the scene unfold was already unbearable, but his infant body was too small, too weak to escape.
"Aldermond," Arwen gasped, surprised by her husband's sudden appearance.
Aldermond's face softened as he looked at her and their newborn son. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. The weight of his words struck Jack as strange—this man was deeply invested in this moment.
Arwen nodded, still catching her breath. But Jack could sense the undercurrent of tension between them. Aldermond had rushed into the room, eager to see his son, but Jack felt a certain distance between him and Arwen.
Aldermond extended his arms to hold the baby, but Jack squirmed in discomfort. He didn't want to leave the warm comfort of Arwen's arms. There was no way he was letting those giant hands touch him.
'Stay away from me, you glorified slab of muscles!' Jack cursed, but all that came out was a feeble cry as Arwen gently passed him over.
"He looks just like me," Aldermond said with pride, smiling down at his son. His words lit up Arwen's face, but then she hesitated.
"So… you're sure he's yours?" she asked, her voice trembling ever so slightly.
Aldermond stiffened. The question hung in the air, heavy and loaded with meaning. He knew what she was asking—not just about their son, but about their future, their strained relationship, and the rigid laws that governed their lives.
"The ritual must be performed, regardless of appearances," Aldermond said firmly. "It is the law, a tradition of our ancestors."
Arwen's heart sank upon hearing his words. He handed the baby back to her, her smile dimming.
"Prepare the baby," Aldermond said, his voice cold and formal now. "The ritual will take place soon."
Arwen was about to protest when Aldermond added, "His name will be Asriel."
And with that, he was gone, leaving her standing there in shock.
Jack's world spun. Asriel. The name echoed in his mind. It hit him like a sledgehammer.
Asriel… he knew that name. It wasn't just any name. It was the name of the protagonist in that very same fantasy book he had read.
The cursed main character.
Jack's pulse quickened. This wasn't good. This was very, very bad. Asriel wasn't just any protagonist—he was the most tortured, betrayed, and broken character Jack had ever encountered. His story was a nightmare from start to finish.
Jack was terrified. He wasn't lucky enough to be born into a typical hero's journey. No, he had been thrown into a world of suffering.
The realization hit him like a punch to the gut: He was Asriel Digmund. The cursed one.