Start of a new life

Two months and a week after my rebirth, I could finally crawl.

It might not sound like much, but to me—a king reborn—it was a tactical advantage. In my old life, I’d learned early that mobility was freedom, and freedom meant opportunity. I still remembered how to activate my aura, but this infant body was a prison of flesh and limitations.

In my prime, reaching Stage 1 Aura had been simple: meditate for one hour a day, every day, for six months. But now? I couldn’t hold a sitting position for more than twenty minutes before one of my parents scooped me up. Meditating at night was equally hopeless—my body’s infant instincts for sleep crushed even a warrior’s discipline.

The solution came to me as naturally as breathing: hide. Find a secluded place and train in secret. My knowledge from the past life would not rot unused.

It took forty minutes of silent scheming before I decided on the perfect location—the library.

The very next day, after my mother had bathed me and left to prepare my food, I made my move. Crawling was slow, agonizingly slow, but I crept toward the library door with the determination of a man on a covert mission. What should have been a short trip felt like a campaign across hostile territory.

The door stood open. Inside, the scent of old parchment and binding glue wrapped around me like an old friend. My gaze immediately locked on the figure seated inside—my grandfather—reading a book titled The Advanced Aura Method.

By Oleg White.

By me.

It was surreal, seeing my own teachings preserved in neat black print. Then my eyes roamed the shelves—more books bearing my name. I had written all of these… and yet, I had never read them.

“Little one? Why are you here?” my grandfather asked, though I couldn’t exactly answer. He set his book down, rose, and walked over, scooping me up with surprising gentleness. “You must’ve been captivated by this book, hmm?” His voice carried warmth.

The book looks heavy if held in my tiny hands. Its leather cover was worn at the corners, the gold-embossed title dulled with time: The King of Charisma: Oleg White and His Downfall.

I froze.

That was my name.

The author was Lesser King Vore—Vore. My closest friend. My brother-in-arms. I hadn’t heard his name in almost four centuries, and yet here it was, printed in bold, permanent ink.

My grandfather’s voice cut through my thoughts. “He,” he said, tapping the portrait on the cover—my own face rendered in faded inks—“has been my idol since I was born.” His tone held the reverence one might give a saint. “Also, little one, you should know that Oleg White was a friend of my great-grandfather, the Right-Hand Ziyad Riyadh.”

I couldn’t respond, but irony burned in my mind. Old man… I knew him better than anyone. I was him.

“I suppose,” he continued, “I can tell you the story passed from my father to me, and then to your father.”

He took a sip from a cup of water, then began. “Oleg White was the perfect king of his time, but he was demoted to Connoisseur. All because of slander from one of his comrades in the Zytes family—a noble. I still believe he should have been king until the day he died.”

He closed the book with a sigh, lingering for a moment on my picture before turning away. I wondered, almost mischievously, how his face would look if I told him the truth—that the man in the portrait was drooling on his shirt.

With a small chuckle, he murmured, “What am I doing, talking to a mere bundle of matter who can’t even understand me?” Still, his steps were gentle as he carried me to my parents’ bedroom.

But I wasn’t done thinking.

If Vore had written one book about me, there could be more. And if there were more books, there was more knowledge to be had. It had been nearly four centuries since my death—techniques might have evolved, powers discovered, methods refined.

Tomorrow, I would begin.

And so I did.

From the next day onward, I meditated for thirty minutes and read for thirty minutes. What I found stunned me. The world had moved far beyond what I had known.

I was the founder of Evolution I—a set of abilities that included Snow, Magma, Supernova, and Black Hole. In my time, these powers were considered omnipotent, the peak of human capability.

But now… someone had discovered Evolution II.

The revelation ignited something inside me. If power beyond mine existed, I would reach it—and surpass it.

---

For the next year, my routine was unshakable. Meditate. Read. Learn. My body grew stronger, my mind sharper. The toll was real—fatigue gnawed at me—but the progress was undeniable.

By the time I was ready to attempt White Aura, I was only twenty minutes of meditation away from activation. My speech had also begun to emerge; just yesterday, I had said “Papa!” for the first time. My father cried—tears of shock and joy—while my mother smiled knowingly.

I had never known such warmth in my previous life. As an orphan, family had been an unfamiliar, precious thing.

Still, I had not forgotten my purpose.

I often thought back to my studies of the Deities. There were six now: Stargazing Dreamer, Freedom Diver, Stars Arbiter, Will Eraser, Rule Zenith, and Generational Light. In my past life, I had been a follower of the Stargazing Dreamer, and my devotion had not wavered.

I was deep in these thoughts when—

BOOM!

The explosion ripped through my concentration. My eyes flew open to see my room in ruins. My White Aura had not just activated—it had erupted, far beyond the usual surface cracks most produced.

The world tilted. My vision blurred. And then, I was no longer in my room.

I stood in a vast, void-like expanse, where light had no source and shadows had no shape.

And there—looming before me—was Him. Ten feet tall, cloaked in a divinity unlike any other.

The one to whom I had given my life.

The one I had followed without question.

The Stargazing Dreamer.