Darkness

  It was the first thing I knew.

  An endless formless void, where my thoughts drifted like dying embers swallowed by an abyss. There were no sensations, no awareness just an overwhelming sense that something had existed before this nothingness.

  A pressure coiled around me, neither warm nor cold, simply there. I could not see, could not hear—only drift. Time lost meaning. Seconds, hours, years? I could not tell.

  Then—sound.

  At first, it was a distant vibration, a dull hum pressing against the edges of my consciousness. It pulsed, faint and rhythmic, like something alive. Slowly, it grew sharper—voices. Muffled, blurred, wrapped in a haze of something thick and unyielding.

  I strained to understand, but the words slipped away, tangled in a foreign cadence.

  Something tugged at me.

  Not a physical pull, but something deeper, an instinct beyond thought. A command to wake.

  I tried to move. My body—if I had one it felt wrong. My limbs, my fingers, and even my breath felt alien as if I had been pressed into a shape that did not fit.

  Then—pain.

  A sharp, stinging burn erupted across my back. It tore through the suffocating haze in my mind, snapping me into awareness with the viciousness of a blade. My muscles tensed to an unfamiliar sensation, then released in a violent jolt.

  And before I could stop myself, my mouth opened.

  A wailing cry escaped me—raw, helpless, infantile.

  And with it, the world rushed in.

  I first saw multiple lights blinding me. A burning radiance that stabbed into my eyes, it was too harsh and too sharp. It tore across my vision like fire, forcing me to squeeze them shut.

  Cool air bit at my damp skin, slipping over me like a phantom’s touch, making me shudder. The scent of blood lingered in the air its scent thick, metallic, and unmistakable.

  Something earthy followed, damp and musky, like pressed bodies and smouldering embers.

  I gasped, my breath hitching as I tried to make sense of it all.

  Then my vision was obscured by a face.

  I forced my eyes open again, blinking through the burning blur.

  An older woman loomed over me, her face lined with age, her head wrapped in a richly woven cloth adorned with small cowrie shells. She wore a wrap of deep indigo, layered with beads and charms carved from ivory and copper. Her dark skin gleamed under the glow of flickering oil lamps.

  Her gaze was sharp, calculating, unreadable. There was no warmth in it—only observation, as if she were measuring something unseen.

  For a long moment, she said nothing.

  Then, she turned her head slightly, speaking to someone just beyond my vision.

  “He is here,” she murmured, her voice low and steady. “His first cries are strong.”

  Before I could question her words, before I could understand, the flood hit.

  Memories.

  They came all at once.

  A tidal wave of sights, sounds, and emotions—memories of another life.

  I remembered laughter. The warmth of home, the echo of voices—familiar, beloved. Sunlit streets. Books lined in neat rows. The scent of old paper and ink.

  I remembered growing up. The weight of expectation pressing down like an iron brand. The slow loss of innocence traded for knowledge and quiet understanding.

  And then my final day.

  The memory snapped into focus, cruelly vivid. I was standing—the city sprawled below me, a sea of flickering lights. Two figures beside me, their faces blurred, their words just unreachable.

  What were we talking about?

  A sharp pain lanced through my skull, sudden and merciless. My thoughts scattered, pieces of the memory slipping from my grasp.

  I clenched my teeth, desperate to hold on to it.

  Then I felt there hands on my back.

  Shoving me forward.

  My stomach lurched. The wind screamed past my ears as I fell.

  A black-and-gold coin pressed into my palm, its metal cold, heavy, final.

  And then—

  Blue light.

  Blinding.

  All-consuming.

  They killed me.

  And yet, I was here.

  A shuddering breath escaped me. My tiny hands clenched into fists. My skin—dark brown, too small, too fragile. This wasn’t a dream. This wasn’t some fevered nightmare.

  I had been reborn.

  But why?

  I swallowed back another cry, my tiny chest heaving with the effort. My mind screamed for logic, for explanation, but none came.

  The elder did not wait for me to understand. She moved with purpose, wrapping me in a fine bark cloth wrap embroidered with intricate geometric patterns, the scent of herbal ointments clinging to it.

  She turned.

  And then, I saw her.

  The room was dim, the flickering glow of oil lamps casting long, swaying shadows over the smooth, polished clay walls. Woven reed mats covered the floor, their edges curling slightly from wear. The air was thick with the scent of burning resin, of sweat, of the lingering presence of life and death entwined.

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  A woman lay motionless on a wooden mat, her body partially veiled in darkness. The light did not reach her fully—it only brushed against the fragile curve of her cheek, the brittle lines of her collarbones, and the deep hollows of her eyes.

  She was frail.

  Her skin, a deep, warm brown, looked pale in the lamplight, stretched too tightly over sharp bones. Her limbs, thin as reeds, lay limply at her sides, fingers curled slightly inward as if even in death, she had not fully released the world.

  Her thick, coiled hair was damp, pressed against her forehead, strands sticking to skin that had long since lost its warmth.

  She was still silent she was dead.

  Three women knelt beside her.

  Their wraps were finer, woven in deep reds and earthy browns, decorated with brass rings and polished beads. Their expressions carried pieces of her own.

  Were they sisters, daughters, nieces? I did not know. But the way their hands clutched at the fabric of their garments, the way their shoulders shook with barely contained sobs, spoke of a grief so deep it swallowed the air itself.

  The first one, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy, held on to the dead woman’s arm, rocking slightly, whispering prayers beneath her breath. The second pressed her forehead against the wooden table, her fingers digging into the rough surface as if trying to anchor herself to something solid.

  The third silent, staring was the worst. Her gaze was hollow, her face streaked with dried tears, lips trembling but refusing to open. She had already broken.

  I knew without being told.

  She was my mother.

  A strange, hollow ache blossomed in my chest. It was not grief.

  Not yet I had not known her.

  The old woman did not linger. She turned toward the doorway, stepping past ornately carved wooden pillars that bore strange symbols, she cradled me close to her chest as we exited the house.

  I clung to the warmth of the old woman’s chest, but it did nothing to chase away the bone-deep displacement.

  I did not belong here.

  Memories of my old life still clashed violently with the reality of this one, disjointed, impossible. The echoes of a past self warred with the fragile instincts of an infant body.

  Then—light.

  Not the flickering glow of surrounding lanterns, but something sharper, impossible.

  A screen.

  It appeared without warning, floating in my vision like a phantom. Its glow pulsed—crisp, surreal, undeniable.

  Then, the words appeared.

  ---

  STATUS SCREEN

  [Name]: ???

  [Title]: None

  [Class]: Technomancer (Lv. 1)

  [Age]: 0

  [Condition]: Infant (Weak, Helpless)

  ---

  [Core Stats]

  Fame: 0 (Unknown)

  Body: 1 (Feeble)

  Reputation: 0 (Nonexistent)

  Grit: 3 (Resilient Soul)

  Mental: 6 (Reincarnated Mind)

  Charisma: 2 (Subtle Presence)

  Dexterity: 1 (Clumsy Newborn)

  Perception: 4 (Unfocused Awareness)

  Affinity: 10 (Innate Connection to Machines)

  Wealth: (None)

  ---

  [Technomancer Abilities] (Locked – Requires Interaction with Technology)

  Passive Awareness – Instinctively senses electric currents and magnetic fields.

  Machine Sensitivity – Can perceive active machines nearby (radios, lightbulbs, mechanical clocks).

  Minor Electrostatic Influence – Emotional surges may cause small electrical discharges (static sparks, flickering lights).

  Pattern Recognition (Dormant) – Subconsciously detects efficiency patterns in machinery, circuitry, and coding structures.

  Digital Echo (Locked) – Residual fragments of past technologies may appear in visions or thoughts.

  ---

  [Skills] (Limited due to age and physical condition)

  [???] – Unlocked by reaching developmental milestones.

  [Basic Memory Recall] – Retains fragmented knowledge from a past life.

  [Survival Instinct] – Innate ability to recognize danger and discomfort.

  [Sensory Adaptation] – Enhanced reaction to light, sound, and vibrations due to Technomancer heritage.

  [Lingual Absorption (Dormant)] – Passively absorbs and deciphers spoken languages.

  ---

  [Status Effects]

  [Reincarnated Mind] – Retains knowledge from a past life, granting intelligence beyond normal limits.

  [Helpless Infant] – Cannot move, speak, or control surroundings. Survival depends entirely on others.

  [Spark of the Machine] – Bound to the world of technology.

  [Underdeveloped Form] – Strength, speed, and endurance are limited due to infancy.

  [Unstable Circuit] – Early Technomancer abilities may cause sporadic, uncontrolled electrical reactions.

  ---

  > Welcome to your new life!

  Mission Assigned

  Objective: Create a Nation and Survive.

  Good Luck! ??

  ---

  A sharp chill crawled down my spine.

  My breath hitched, the world narrowing to that single, impossible message.

  Create a Nation?