RUH: Volume 1 Chapter 1
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So, this is what it's like to be...born.
Not what I expected, honestly. I mean, I'm a god—an Olympian god, no less. I should be storming down from the heavens in a chariot made of flames, not helpless and sticky in some cramped, dimly lit room.
How did I end up here?
One moment, I was basking in the glory of the gods—worshipped, adored, feared. The next? Darkness. Silence. And then...this. Mortality. Powerless. A fresh start, apparently. Hilarious.
I suppose that someone up there thought this would be a fitting punishment. I don't remember all the details. Just flashes—shattered pillars, screaming voices, blinding light. Maybe I offended a rival deity? It wouldn't be the first time. They always were jealous of my superiority, my...well, everything.
The thought of starting over in this miserable mortal shell makes me furious. But for now, I can only scream. Yes, scream. A fitting entrance for one as great as me. The mortals around me are instantly drawn to it, of course. One of them, a woman, hovers above me, softening as she looks down with eyes that almost pity me. How dare she pity me.
"Welcome to your new life, little one," she whispers, as though I am something precious.
She has blond hair tied in a loose bun, a face that is careworn yet still warm. Her expression is soft, as if she's seeing me as something fragile. Hah! If only she knew. But it's not altogether unpleasant. For a mortal, I suppose, she's... fitting.
Then there's the midwife who calls her name, laughter in her voice. "He's got some lungs, Claire," she teases.
Claire. So that's my mother. A common name for a common life. Hmph. She'll just have to accept that her son is destined for much greater things than this quaint little existence.
But where, I wonder, is my father? A warlord, perhaps? A king, surely—someone who might glimpse the greatness within me. And then I hear it. Felix, the midwife calls to the door, her tone excited. "Your boy's arrived!"
A door creaks open, and a figure stumbles in, looking around with a grin that's almost as bright as the lantern in his hand. He's hurried, out of breath, and his eyes light up when they find me. This is my father, Felix Necron—a man with a lively energy and a booming laugh, nothing like the Zeus. When he reaches me, he's gentle, cradling me with a reverence I almost approve of.
"Well, would you look at him?" he says, his voice brimming with pride. "Strong as a mountain already."
Beside him, my mother—Claire, as they call her—lets out a quiet laugh. She rests her hand on his arm, and for a moment, they're both lost in me, their new "little godling."
Then, from behind, a small voice. "Can I see him?"
They turn, And there she is. A little girl, barely tall enough to reach the midwife's hip, peeking around the doorframe. She looks at me with wide, curious eyes, her nose wrinkling a bit as if she's not quite sure what to make of her new little brother.
Sicily inches closer, her fingers twirling around a strand of dark, curly hair. "He looks...weird," she announces after a moment, scrunching her nose in distaste. "And he's loud."
Felix bursts out laughing, and even my mother hides a smile.
Charming. My older sister, ladies and gentlemen. The epitome of mortal innocence and all the grace of a rock. I suppose she'll have to learn to revere me sooner or later. No sibling of mine should look at me with anything less than awe.
Ah, family. Already, I see my place in this world—the deity among them. They'll learn in time.
As days pass, I begin to learn the boundaries of my new reality. The body of a baby is frustratingly limited. My limbs flail when I will them to stay still. My head feels impossibly heavy, and I can't even raise it without help. But my mind, at least, remains sharp. I am a god, after all. This mortal vessel might be weak, but I am not.
For what I learned, this mortal world of Talents and Awakened individuals. In this society one third of the populations are said to be Awakens, They all have special abilites their called talents, and it all feels...primitive. unlike Olympia it's almost interesting.
One day, my sister Sicily, bless her heart, decides to showcase her "talent" in our small, cramped home. I watch the glow in her purple eyes as she concentrates, and suddenly, I'm levitating, cradled by an invisible force. An overwhelming sense of pride swells within me. Here I am, a god who has witnessed the universe's wonders, yet utterly overjoyed to see my sister levitating an infant. It's remarkable!
"See? Look, baby brother! I can do magic!" she says, puffing out her chest proudly.
I wiggle in the air, feeling weightless as Sicily's excitement fills the room. But as her concentration wavers, I begin to plummet. I fall with a soft thud and soon find myself crying—not out of sorrow, but because the whole situation is absurdly overwhelming.
Our mother rushed over, concern etched on her face. She places her hand on me, and a warm green light envelops my tiny form. It's a comforting, almost divine sensation—healing from a mere mortal! What a delightful surprise!
If I'm stuck with these delightfully insignificant mortals, living in a world where magic and might rule. Every day is a chance for me to harness whatever this talent nonsense is, even if I have to figure out how to navigate this wretched infant body.
And who knows? Maybe being born again will provide me with the opportunity to re-establish my glorious reign… eventually.
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Ah, Sicily, my dear sister, you may be the prodigy now, but wait until I regain my full powers. Then we'll see who the true genius of the Necron family is.
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