Prologue

"#?!-."

The strange utterance fills the air, an enigmatic language that escapes my comprehension. It is followed by a gentle, uncertain tone, as if struggling to communicate with the utmost tenderness.

I find myself in a peculiar state, unable to open my eyes and now uttering sounds that are far from the eloquence of a mature individual. It becomes evident that I have regressed into the form of a child, bereft of any shortcuts or divine powers that could've helped me. The consciousness of an infant is an inconvenience I cannot escape.

As the fragments of my thoughts gradually coalesce, a beautiful voice, void of emotion, interrupts my stream of consciousness

[Greetings, Master. I am Lucy, the AI assigned to assist you with anything you require.]

Expecting this, I 'sigh' internally.

"Master," a title that elicits a tinge of disappointment within me. I had hoped for a more familiar appellation, such as "Host" as the clichè was too deeply rooted in my mind to change at this point.

[Understood. From this moment onward, I will refer to you as 'Host.']

Alas, my attempt at humor is met with Lucy's unwavering commitment to protocol, as she pledges to refer to me as "Host" henceforth.

I concede that this outcome was to be expected, and I realize the futility of suppressing my thoughts. A proverb reminds us to ponder for at least ten seconds before speaking, highlighting the inability to control our thoughts while possessing the power to restrain our words.

"Lucy, could you scan the outside world for me? Please convey the situation in simple terms."

[Understood, Host. Initializing scan: 0%...]

In the midst of this exchange, I fulfill the primal instinct of a hungry child, finding solace in the embrace of a nipple, shamelessly drawing sustenance with all the strength my tiny form can muster.

After all, hunger could not be denied.

Eventually, the scan reaches completion, and Lucy proceeds to relay the information gathered.

[...Scan completed.

Host is currently situated within the confines of an opulent estate. Several maids diligently attend to the needs of your mother, while the figure who should rightfully be your father gazes upon her, his gaze undoubtedly filled with the overwhelming emotions evoked by the arrival of new life. Powerful entities stand guard in the vicinity, most likely to protect the happenings in this room.

The likelihood of 'Your father' gazing at your mother out of sheer happiness stands at 99%. The probability of the guards stationed here protecting the estate with unwavering dedication is 100%.

To summarize: You are a newborn in the bosom of a prosperous family.

Evaluation: Really Lucky]

The concluding sentence threatens to make me spew the nourishment I hold dear. How can I be considered fortunate in this situation?

However, before I can delve deeper into my contemplations, an irresistible drowsiness envelops me. The delicate fragility of a child's existence becomes strikingly apparent, prompting me to succumb to a deep slumber. I pray that upon awakening, several years will have passed, though I am well aware that such serendipitous fortune is typically reserved for protagonists whose journeys are far less arduous than my own.

'Fuckers.'

Immersed in a 'soothing' stream of thoughts, I silently curse before slipping away into complete darkness.

Meanwhile...

"He surely is my son! Look at how he suckles with such vigor! Hahaha!"

The man's hearty laughter fills the room, causing a blush to tint the cheeks of the attending maids.

"My dear, please, be quiet."

A voice, weary yet resolute, cuts through the joviality, instantly taming the man's earlier exuberance. He quiets down like a scolded puppy, meek and obedient.

"...Come here and hold your child. Our little one is already fast asleep. Just look at how precious he is!"

A subtle sense of pride underlies her words as if this were not just an ordinary child but some kind of ethereal ruler. And to those around her, that's precisely what he appears to be.

'Our new young master...'

The elder maids, filled with elation, recognize this newborn as an opportunity to elevate their status to caretakers. Yet, they also understand that securing such a position requires unwavering trust from Anne, the child's mother and the wife of Seraphis Von Pierre, a respected member of the Harmonic Council.

Pierre gazes intently at his son's flawless visage, a deep smirk unfurling upon his lips. With a single glance, he discerns that once again, their family will welcome another exceptional member into its fold. Little does he know, at this stage, the true extent of the awe-inspiring potential possessed by his 'angelic son.'

"...Darling, what do you think of naming him Ren Von Seraphis? It feels so fitting..."

From the moment she laid eyes on her child, the name Ren Von Seraphis has been etched in her mind. Though a twinge of doubt lingers, she recognizes it as an unshakable intuition and sees no harm in embracing it.

"...Indeed, my love. Listen, everyone! Henceforth, this child shall bear the name Ren Von Seraphis! He will be the young master of our Seraphis family!"

As Pierre's final declaration resounded throughout the mansion, a seismic wave of electrifying mana rippled through the air, stirring the very essence of the estate. The vibrations reached every corner, from the grand halls adorned with opulence to the humblest chambers tucked away in the shadows.

In that transformative moment, the atmosphere crackled with anticipation, as if the world itself held its breath, awaiting the birth of a new era. The maids, once mere observers, were now swept up in a symphony of exultation. Their hearts pounded in unison, their hands clapped with fervor, and their voices blended into a magnificent crescendo of jubilation.

In the courtyard, the knights, stalwart guardians of the Seraphis family, raised their swords high, their polished blades gleaming under the radiant sun. A unified roar surged from their valiant throats, echoing across the vast expanse, blending with the resonant chants of the maids. The harmonious clamor reverberated through the very foundations of the estate, reaching heights that seemed to pierce the Heavens themselves.

The Heavens, in their infinite wisdom, seemed to stir in response, painting the sky with vivid hues of gold and crimson. As if acknowledging the profound significance of this moment, the sun bathed the scene in a warm, golden glow, casting its benevolent light upon the gathered throng.

And so, as the resounding chorus of celebration echoed far and wide, the World bore witness to the birth of Ren Von Seraphis, a name destined to be whispered with reverence, celebrated with awe, and immortalized in the annals of legends.

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