A New Beginning

Darkness. Endless and suffocating.

There was no weight, no sound—just an empty void. Was this death?

Then, a voice broke through the silence.

"Look at him… how cute."

The voice was deep yet gentle, filled with warmth and admiration.

Ace felt something solid against his back. His body was light, weak, almost foreign. A strange pressure rested on his eyelids, and when he opened them, the world emerged as a blur of bleeding colors and hazy figures.

Slowly, the blurriness faded, and clarity returned.

A man stood above him, cradling the tiny form in his arms. He looked young yet carried the presence of someone powerful. His white hair, as pure as fresh snow, framed a face so sharp and handsome it could belong to a prince. His clothes were regal—a commander's uniform detailed with golden embroidery. He was breathtaking, yet something about him made Ace uneasy.

Then it struck him.

'Wait… he's holding me? Why am I so small?'

Ace tried to move his hands—tiny, chubby, not the hands he remembered. A chill crawled down his spine as memories flooded back: the bustling street, the cold evening air, the blinding headlights—and then nothing.

'Oh shit. I died, didn't I?'

Panic welled up inside him, but before he could process it further, another figure entered his vision.

A woman, beautiful beyond words, reached for him. Her soft black hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her eyes—gentle yet strong—gazed at him with warmth. With delicate yet firm hands, she lifted him from the man's grasp.

The moment she held him, a strange sense of comfort washed over Ace.

'Is this… my mother?'

The realization was almost too much to bear. He longed to scream for answers, yet his body was too weak. His vision blurred—not from tears, but from exhaustion.

'Well… whatever. I'll think about this later…'

And just like that, sleep claimed him.

---

Four Months Later

"Ace!"

A soft, loving voice echoed through the grand hall.

The baby on the marble floor—Ace—perked up at the sound. Instinctively, he turned toward the source.

His mother stood a few feet away, kneeling with open arms. Her eyes, full of warmth, watched him intently.

Ace struggled to move. Crawling was awkward at first, but after months of trial and error, he had finally mastered it. His small hands pressed against the smooth floor, and his legs pushed him forward. Slowly, he made his way to her.

She laughed as she scooped him up, holding him close.

" my little Ace."

Her voice was soft, laced with pride. Yet within him, a rebellious thought simmered.

'Stop treating me like a kid—I'm seventeen, dammit!'

Though his body was that of an infant, Ace's mind carried the weight and frustration of a determined seventeen-year-old.

He rested his head against her shoulder and sighed softly.

*'This world… is so different.'*

Magic was real here—he had seen it firsthand. The floating lanterns in the hall, the glowing runes on the walls—everything surpassed the mundane existence of his former life.

And his family…

His father, Ken Zorter, is a Holy Knight —a warrior blessed with divine power whose mere presence commanded respect.

His mother was a swordswoman, renowned for her lethal grace and formidable skill in battle—a perfect blend of beauty and strength.

Ace also had two siblings. The eldest, Asta, boasted black hair and sharp golden eyes. He resembled the quintessential fantasy hero—handsome, confident, and undeniably powerful, yet kind and protective beneath his strong exterior.

Then there was Sylvie, his middle sibling, who inherited their mother's black hair and an adorably curious face. Unlike Asta, who carried himself like a natural leader, Sylvie observed the world with wide-eyed wonder.

And their family name?

Zorter… huh. Sounds like a legendary weapon from a video game,'* Ace mused.

He cared little for names, but there was no denying it—they were rich.

The mansion was enormous. Its ceilings soared high enough to seem to touch the sky, and the walls were adorned with gold-trimmed paintings. Crystal chandeliers hung overhead, casting a warm glow throughout the halls. Expensive furniture, each piece a work of art, lined the rooms. The polished floors reflected his tiny form as he crawled across them.

Outside, vast gardens stretched endlessly. Exotic flowers bloomed in carefully designed patterns, and a massive fountain stood at the center, its water sparkling under the sun.

'This… is insane.'

Ace had been granted a second chance, and this time, he wasn't starting from nothing. He had a family, wealth, and a world full of possibilities.

Yet even as he reveled in his new life, an insatiable pull urged him to understand more.

---

Five Years Later

The scent of old parchment filled the air of the grand library—a sanctuary that had quickly become Ace's favorite refuge. Towering bookshelves, laden with knowledge from ages past, surrounded him. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, casting golden rays onto the polished wooden floor.

Seated cross-legged on a plush rug, Ace flipped through a book on magic. For the past year, he had devoted himself to mastering the language of this world. The journey had been frustrating at times, but now he read fluently, delving into ancient tomes filled with secrets and power.

Magic fascinated him.

According to the texts, mana was the lifeblood of this realm. Every living being possessed it, yet controlling it required intense discipline and training.

'If mana exists, that means I should have it too… right?'

he thought, closing his eyes to focus.

Deep within him, a warmth stirred—like a tiny flame flickering in the recesses of his chest.

He reached out with all his will.

A faint glow enveloped his body—red, warm, pulsing with energy. His heart pounded with exhilaration.

'It's working!'

But the moment he tried to push the glow further—

THUMP.

A wave of exhaustion crashed over him. His head spun, his vision darkened, and his body trembled from the strain. The red glow vanished, leaving Ace gasping for breath.

'Damn… I overdid it,' he thought, frustration mingling with determination.

I'm not a helpless child—I may look small, but my mind is that of a determined seventeen-year-old!

Yet even as fatigue threatened to overwhelm him, a grin crept across his face.

Every day, he practiced. Initially, he could only summon a faint glow, but over time he learned to control it with precision. Small sparks of fire danced at his fingertips, and gentle winds seemed to heed his silent commands. It wasn't much yet, but it was progress.

Magic was real, and Ace was resolved to master it.

Standing by a large window, he gazed out at the endless horizon where the golden sunset painted the sky in vibrant hues.

'This world… it's going to be amazing,' he reflected, his eyes alight with resolve.