[Where am I?]
Riku felt weightless, as though he were floating in water. There was no up or down, just an endless, tranquil void. He couldn't see, couldn't feel his body—only a peculiar calmness.
Am I… dead?
Faint, muffled voices began to echo around him.
"Do… is… boy… lo…"
What the heck is that? A broken radio? His senses stirred, sluggish and groggy. Suddenly, he felt something—his hand, maybe?
Wait… is that my hand?
Bit by bit, the numbness faded. Sensation crept back into his limbs, like a phone finally booting up after a hard crash. Riku tried to open his eyes, though it felt like prying open rusted shutters.
Light. Blinding, overwhelming light. His vision slowly adjusted, revealing a world that was… different. Brighter, softer.
He glanced down. His tiny hands clenched into fists.
"WHAT THE—?!" His baby voice came out in a squeaky panic. "I GOT REINCARNATED?! THIS ISN'T A JOKE?"
"Does this world have magic or not? If it doesn't, I swear I'll invent a nuclear missile and blow this place to bits! Oh, who am I kidding? Of course, it's a magical world-it's an isekai, dude!"
A burst of unusual thoughts exploded in his mind, each one more chaotic and absurd than the last, like a hurricane of half-baked ideas colliding in a storm of confusion.
Excitement surged through him, followed quickly by confusion. Memories of an elven woman, her sword slicing him clean in half, flashed across his mind like a bad action replay.
"What was that?!" he squeaked. "Why did she go all Doom Slayer on me?"
Before he could ponder further, a sharp headache smacked him like a rubber band snapping against his brain.
Ugh, okay… Note to self: no heavy thinking in this tiny brain. I need a RAM upgrade, stat.
Exhaustion swept over him like a weighted blanket.
"Just… need a quick nap…"
His eyelids drooped, and the world slipped away again.
[AFTER 9 MONTHS]
Riku woke to the sound of voices—this time, clear as day.
"Wow," he muttered, surprised. "I can actually hear now!" He let out a happy squeal, his baby voice still hilariously high-pitched. "And I can talk! Sort of. Watch out, world, baby genius coming through."
He flexed his tiny fingers dramatically.
"But seriously, thinking hurts. Every time I try, it's like my brain throws up a blue screen. Probably because I'm not fully developed yet." He chuckled. "Gotta love baby brain. But hey, give me a few years, and I'll be overclocking this bad boy."
It had taken some time, but Riku pieced together his situation.
"So," he mused, staring at his chubby baby hand, "I got summoned, died immediately, and now I've been reincarnated. Probably about a year or two after that incident." He sighed. "Figures. I can't even catch a break in another world."
His eyes sparkled with determination. "But I'm not just anyone now—I'm Poll Nightvale!"
He paused, frowning. "Okay, yeah, that name feels like I'm destined to be a side character. But hey, it's temporary. I can rename myself later, right?"
Poll—or rather, Riku—scanned his surroundings. Across the room, a beautiful woman sat in a wooden chair, reading from a thick book. Her long, dark hair framed a face so youthful she looked more like an older sister than a mother.
"That's Seraphina Nightvale," he muttered to himself. "My mom. She's a high-class mage and apparently a teacher too."
She was tutoring three girls, each one unique and brimming with potential.
The first girl, with short black hair and curious blue eyes, raised her hand. "Teacher! How powerful are Guardians? Like… can they crush us? Or, I dunno, do they just look scary?"
Seraphina smiled gently. "Guardians are nature's defense against the disruption of mana. They are immensely powerful, but they won't attack unless provoked."
Poll blinked at the girl. Ah, that's Lira Wyndall, he thought. Age 10. Mana nerd. Future mage. Also, kinda cute for a kid.
Next, a fiery redhead with a confident smirk piped up. "I'd fight one," she declared, flexing her arm. "No problem."
"Kaida Thornhelm," Poll whispered. "Age 11. Sword enthusiast. Future warrior. Probably spends more time training than sleeping. Classic overachiever."
Finally, the third girl spoke softly. Her sky-blue hair, lined with streaks of purple, shimmered in the light. Her golden eyes were calm, serious. "I'd rather purify them," she said. "It's better than fighting."
"Elowen Valeheart," Poll muttered. "Age 7. Wannabe purifier. Scary wise for her age. Probably the only one here who understands the meaning of life. Or at least pretends to."
"So, this is basically... a harem, isn't it? No, no, no! They're much younger than me! Hmmm… but who cares? Age is just a number! Ugh, shut up! Think straight, you dumbass!"
Poll sighed, absorbing the scene.
"Man," he muttered, "my mom's over here running a daycare for prodigies, and I'm stuck drooling on myself. But hey, I'm learning things, bit by bit."
He tilted his tiny head, listening in.
Seraphina continued, her voice steady and melodic. "Guardians exist to keep mana balanced. They are not inherently evil, but if the flow of mana becomes unstable, they will act."
Poll tried to keep up, but the more he focused, the more his head throbbed.
Ugh. Baby brain strikes again.
His tiny fist clenched in determination. "No worries," he whispered. "I'll grow up, level up, and then? I'm gonna be the most OP protagonist this world's ever seen. Just you wait."
For now, though, he let himself relax, a small, content smile on his face.
This is my second chance.
And this time? I'm gonna make it count.