A Space of Sorrow
Darkness.
Endless. Boundless. Consuming.
Marcus floated in the void, weightless, formless.
Marcus: (Thinking)
"It’s… it’s so dark."
The pain was gone.
Or maybe it was still there, buried beneath the numbness of nothingness.
Marcus: (Thinking)
"Is this it? Have I finally died?"
His mind raced. Don. Sofi.
Were they alright? Had the sniper struck again?
Had his sacrifice meant anything?
The thoughts swirled, growing louder, echoing back at him in the endless abyss.
Marcus: (Thinking)
"Where am I? How can I still be thinking? Is this the afterlife? Full of darkness?"
For what felt like an eternity, there was no answer.
Then—
A single, white dot appeared.
Like a lone star blinking in the void.
Marcus’s eyes widened.
Marcus: (Thinking)
"Wait… I can see? My eyes… they’re working?"
He blinked. He could feel his eyelids move.
The small white dot shimmered.
Then another appeared. And another.
Suddenly—the sky around him erupted into an ocean of stars.
Marcus gasped, realization settling in.
Marcus: (Thinking)
"What is this place? I can see so many… stars? Am I in space? Is this my soul?"
His body drifted, the sensation strange yet familiar.
Like he was floating.
But no—he wasn’t in empty space. He was… swimming.
Marcus moved his arms experimentally, feeling the strange viscous substance surrounding him.
It wasn’t air.
It wasn’t water.
It was something else.
A feeling tugged at his soul, deep and distant.
Then—
The stars shifted.
They pulled together, bending into the shape of an eye.
A vast, luminous white eye, glowing in the cosmic darkness.
It opened.
Marcus’s breath hitched.
A presence loomed over him, ancient yet unknowable.
Was this… Heaven?
Or something else entirely?
He felt the weight of everything he lost crashing down on him.
His country. His goals. His friends.
It hurt.
Tears welled up in his eyes, floating away like tiny droplets of light.
Marcus: (Thinking)
"I wasn’t finished yet… I still had so much to do."
The eye pulsed.
Then—
Marcus felt a force pulling him forward.
The eye widened, and he was suddenly rushing toward it, dragged through an unseen current.
His body lurched forward, head-first into the light.
For a split second, everything was pure white.
Then—
POP.
Re:Born
A bright turquoise glow flooded his vision.
His head broke the surface of something warm and thick, a liquid shifting around his tiny form.
Marcus gasped, sucking in his first breath—but something felt off.
His lungs felt smaller. His body felt weaker.
His limbs felt tiny.
He blinked rapidly, his vision adjusting to the soft luminescence around him.
Glowing bottles lined the walls, casting a serene light through the room.
The air was thick with the scent of something unfamiliar—something ancient.
Marcus’s thoughts slammed to a halt.
Where the hell was he?
What had just happened?
And more importantly—
Why did his hands feel so small?
A New Life Begins
A mother’s cry and the sharp wail of a newborn baby echoed through the Ether Delivery Room.
Elda lay back, exhausted yet relieved, as her body shuddered from the intensity of childbirth.
Her breathing steadied, and a soft smile of victory crept onto her lips.
Elda:
"Ry… our baby!"
Her voice was breathless, but filled with warmth.
Beside her, Ryker gripped her hand tighter, his own excitement barely contained.
Ryker:
"Yes! My beautiful! We finally did it! You finally did it!"
His voice shook slightly, a mix of adrenaline, overwhelming pride, and love.
The priest, an older man clad in flowing robes adorned with intricate etheric markings, gently cradled the newborn in his arms.
The baby squirmed and wailed, his small hands grasping at the air.
The priest turned toward the new parents, his face calm yet reverent.
Priest:
"Oh, blessed couple—congratulations! It’s a boy!"
For a moment, there was silence.
Then—
Ryker:
"A BOY? YA-HOOO!!!"
His entire body jolted with excitement, his deep, boisterous laugh filling the room.
He jumped like a child, fists clenched, his elation completely unrestrained.
Ryker:
"Our first baby boy, Elda!"
His eyes sparkled as he turned back to the priest.
Ryker:
"Can we hold him?"
He grinned eagerly, eyes locked onto the tiny bundle in the priest’s arms.
The priest chuckled, shaking his head.
Priest:
"In due time, blessed couple. We must first perform the Ether Ritual. It will only take a moment."
Ryker nodded eagerly, his anticipation barely contained.
Ryker:
"Alright, alright! No rush—take your time. Elda, rest for a bit, I got this!"
Elda, still catching her breath, smiled fondly at her husband’s enthusiasm.
Elda:
"You’re more excited than the baby, Ry."
Ryker beamed, clearly unbothered by the comment.
The Ether Ritual
The priest carefully carried the crying newborn over to a small, earthen bathtub carved directly into the floor.
A nurse approached, carrying a sealed vial filled with glowing turquoise liquid.
She uncorked it, and the room was immediately filled with a soft, soothing energy.
The priest poured the Ether slowly over the baby’s tiny form, washing away the remnants of blood and fluid from the birth.
The moment the liquid touched the infant’s skin, a faint glow pulsed across his body.
The baby twitched, his cries momentarily stopping, as though he had just felt something… profound.
A connection.
A link between himself and the world’s mana.
The priest continued gently cleansing the baby, ensuring every drop of Ether seeped into his pores.
Slowly—the crying subsided.
The newborn relaxed in the shallow bath, his tiny hands floating weightlessly.
Priest:
"The connection is formed. The ritual is complete."
Lifting the baby out, the priest wrapped him in a soft cloth, drying him completely.
With great care, he turned and presented him to his parents.
Priest:
"Mr. and Mrs. Redimir—I bring to you your new son."
First Moments
Elda’s eyes glistened as she reached out.
Elda:
"He’s… so small."
Her fingers brushed against his soft cheek, and the baby twitched slightly at her touch.
She let out a tired laugh, pressing her forehead gently against the infant’s.
Elda:
"Ry, look at him… he’s perfect."
Ryker, still brimming with excitement, crouched beside her.
He grinned, reaching out with one finger—
And the baby immediately grabbed it.
Ryker froze.
Then grinned even wider.
Ryker:
"Oh-ho! What a strong grip he has! Such a fighter!"
He chuckled, watching his son’s tiny fingers cling to him with surprising strength.
His laughter softened, his voice dropping into something more gentle, more tender.
Ryker:
"And look—he has both our hair colors!"
His hand brushed through the baby’s tiny strands, his dark hair intertwined with a soft golden twirl.
Elda’s eyes widened slightly.
Elda:
"Oh my… you’re right. He really does!"
She turned back to Ryker, her smile warm, radiant.
Elda:
"What shall we name him?"
Ryker paused, stroking his chin in thought.
Then, his eyes lit up.
Ryker:
"It would be nice to have another 'Ry' in the family, to take care of you too!"
His grin softened into something full of love and pride.
Ryker:
"How’s about… Ryfel?"
Elda laughed softly, the name rolling off her tongue.
She gazed back down at their son, her heart full.
Elda:
"Ryfel… I like it."
She kissed the baby’s forehead gently, whispering with love.
Elda:
"Hello, my sweet little Ryfel Redimir. Welcome to our family."
A New Mind in an Infant’s Body
Inside the newborn’s mind, chaos reigned.
His consciousness surged, thoughts crashing into each other like violent waves in a storm.
This wasn’t instinct.
This wasn’t a newborn’s blank slate.
This was the mind of a man—Marcus Seneca’s mind.
Marcus (Thinking):
"What… what the hell just happened?!"
His body felt wrong.
His limbs were weak. Tiny.
The voices around him sounded foreign, their words unintelligible.
The air was thick, carrying a scent that was not the sterile cleanliness of a hospital.
His eyes, though unfocused, took in flickering lantern lights, stone walls, and wooden beams—
None of it felt right.
Marcus (Thinking):
"Where am I?! This… this isn’t America!"
Panic clawed at his mind.
The architecture, the robes people were wearing, the way they spoke—
Nothing resembled modern civilization.
There were no machines, no beeping monitors, no doctors in white coats.
This wasn’t a hospital.
This wasn’t even the right century.
Marcus (Thinking):
"I’m not in a hospital, I’m not in America… WHERE THE HELL AM I?”
His body squirmed, his tiny hands clenching instinctively as he tried to move.
But all that came out was—
A baby’s cry.
A Horrifying Realization
Marcus’s heart pounded, but his body betrayed him.
His head bobbed weakly, barely able to lift itself.
A pair of arms cradled him gently—a woman’s arms.
His mother?
His mind raced, trying to process everything.
Marcus (Thinking):
"I don’t understand what they’re saying… and what the hell was that bath?!"
The glowing liquid still clung to his skin, leaving behind a tingling warmth.
Marcus (Pondering):
"Shining Shampoo? What the—wait no—focus!"
His thoughts derailed even further as he realized something even worse.
His tiny hands twitched.
His fingers were stubby. Weak.
His limbs barely worked.
Marcus (Thinking):
"No… No, no, no—"
And then—
His breath caught.
The moment of true horror arrived.
Marcus (Thinking):
"Wait… the light I came out from that looked like I was at the end of a tunnel—that was a…VAGINA?!"
His baby face twisted slightly, a mixture of existential panic and sheer disbelief.
And then—a shadow loomed over him.
The priest.
Marcus’s instincts kicked in, his Navy-trained mind still wired for danger.
Marcus:
"Shit! Is he trying to attack me?! BLOCK—wait, why is he smiling?"
The priest raised a small pouch in his hands.
Marcus:
"Wait, what is that—?"
Before he could process anything else—
A fine dust rained down onto his tiny face.
His body immediately relaxed.
His limbs stopped twitching.
His thoughts screamed in protest.
Marcus:
"Wait! No! I still have questions—don’t you dare make me sleep—"
His vision blurred.
His tiny body grew heavier.
The darkness returned.
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