As time passed, I simply lay there, staring up at the thatched ceiling, lost in thought. My mind drifted through plans and possibilities, weighing the challenges ahead.

  It was clear to me that the nation I was forced to create would shape this land where survival was my only certainty, would be fundamentally different from anything I had ever known.

  I lived under a democracy, a system built on compromise, institutions, and collective governance. But here, in a world of shifting loyalties, tribal power struggles, and an absence of structured governance, democracy was not a viable option.

  There were no guiding principles dictating how I should survive, no predetermined conditions for how my nation should endure. The only rule was that I had to impose my own.

  Yet, absolute rule by a single leader was a precarious prospect. History has proven time and again that lone rulers, no matter how brilliant or ruthless, were vulnerable to internal collapse.

  I needed to craft an image of singular authority—an unchallenged ruler, yes, but one supported by a foundation strong enough to carry the weight of a growing state. That meant establishing a functional, loyal class of administrators who could handle the bulk of governance and execution.

  Each of them needed to be competent, disciplined, and entirely aware of their roles in the machine I was building.

  Blood ties and familial dynasties would not be the foundation of my regime. That path led to nepotism, stagnation, and the inevitable decay of effective rule.

  Instead, I had to construct a system where individuals rose through knowledge, efficiency, and demonstrated ability.

  A government ruled by the educated—technocrats, scholars, and specialists—would be the most effective means of maintaining control and ensuring progress. If they were to understand my vision, I had to shape them from the ground up. The next generation had to be groomed to carry my ideology forward.

  I was already positioned for rulership, but fate was unpredictable. Even if I secured my place now, what of the years ahead? If I were to be removed by treachery, disease, or unforeseen disaster, my work would collapse unless I embedded my ideology so deeply into the fabric of society that it became self-sustaining.

  A cult of personality was essential, but more than that, I needed a literal cult. Religion has shaped civilizations for millennia, influencing every aspect of culture, governance, and warfare.

  If I were to explain the unnatural abilities granted to me—the so-called “technomancer” powers—I required divine justification. Faith had a way of bending reality for those who believed, and if I could position myself as the harbinger of a new order, my rule would be beyond mere politics. It would be destiny.

  But indoctrination required time, effort, and above all, efficiency. If I could reduce the burden of survival—freeing my people from the endless grind of subsistence—then I could redirect their energy toward ideological devotion.

  Mass indoctrination was only possible if my subjects were not preoccupied with mere existence. That meant restructuring the entire tribe, improving resource distribution, and securing stability.

  Yet, all of this was contingent on my understanding of the land’s resources, its local power dynamics, and the foreign entities that would inevitably take an interest in my growing nation.

  The world beyond my borders could be an opportunity or a threat, and I needed to be prepared for either.

  So many pieces had yet to be placed on the board. The next ten years would determine everything. How would my people perceive me? How much of their traditions could I alter or outright abolish to serve my vision?

  Every aspect of their culture needed to be scrutinized, restructured, and, if necessary, erased.

  One way or another, I would shape this land into something that could handle my dreams and maybe complete this mission.

  I had no sense of how much time had passed, so busy lost in planning, learning, and dreaming of the future, until the bed shifted beneath me.

  My thoughts scattered as I became aware of the soft light of morning filtering in, and then, suddenly, I was lifted.

  I was in the steady grip of a woman who I did not recognize. My limbs still, weak and uncoordinated, barely responded as I was carried through the dim light of the hut. The woman hummed softly, her voice soothing, but I found no comfort in it.

  So lost in my thoughts and plans, it was only now did I realize that the pressure in my gut had already lessened, and the sticky warmth between my legs and smell confirmed the humiliating truth.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  A grown man trapped in the body of a helpless infant, forced to endure the most degrading necessities of life.

  I wanted to scream at the embarrassment, but my infant body could do nothing but squirm as I was unwrapped from my soiled cloth.

  The air hit my skin, cool against the dampness. My caretaker barely reacted, only making a quiet sound of disapproval before she set about cleaning me with practised ease.

  My shame burned. This is my life now.

  Once I was clean, she swaddled me in fresh cloth, binding me tightly, leaving only my small hands free. She settled into a seated position, cradling me with ease, and then guided me toward her bare breast.

  Revulsion rolled through me. This was necessary, I reminded myself. My body needed sustenance. There was no alternative. I latched on, my body knowing what to do even as my mind recoiled. The warm milk filled my mouth, and despite myself, I drank. I drank because I had no choice my survival demanded it.

  But at that moment, as I nursed in silence, I was more aware than ever of how small and powerless I had become.

  ———

  Hours passed before I was carried outside, the sun high above, the gathered crowd whispering in low tones. I had known this was coming. My mother’s body, wrapped in rich fabrics, lay atop a wooden bier adorned with offerings. It did nothing to ease the hollowness in my chest.

  The women of the tribe stood in dark wraps, their hair braided and adorned with beads, their faces solemn as they sang in rhythmic sorrow. The men had their bodies painted in red and ash, they carried spears bound with strips of brown cloth, their heads bowed in reverence.

  The body was laid to rest within an earthen tomb, surrounded by other remains resting on stone beds—mere skeletons now, their flesh long claimed by time. I couldn’t help but wonder how their decay had unfolded, how long it had taken for them to become nothing but bone.

  Offerings of food, cloth, and copper were carefully placed beside the deceased, tributes meant to accompany them beyond this life. Nearby, servants stood in quiet mourning, some weeping softly.

  Among them, I spotted the three girls who had been with her when I first arrived in this world. A question lingered in my mind—what would become of them now?

  The chief stood at the forefront. His expression was unreadable, his gaze fixed forward. He showed no visible signs of grief, his face Stoic. But I focused on his left hand, noticing the small tremors, but it could mean anything.

  I shed no tears. There was no space for them. The changes wrought by the forest had left their mark on my mind, dulling emotions I might have once felt. I was alone in a world I barely understood, a world that would not bend for me—I would have to shape myself to survive within it.

  As the burial chants rose in intensity, I let the weight of it settle over me. This was my first question in this new life: how had she died? Was it sickness, betrayal, or something woven into her very blood? I needed to know.

  ———

  As time passed, my life settled into a monotonous rhythm—eat, sleep, soil myself, observe, and repeat. Attempts at crawling were futile; my body was still too weak to support even that small act of independence.

  The constant weight of the debuff lingered in my mind, dulling my thoughts, yet I still found myself speaking of advanced concepts, though, to those around me, it was nothing but incomprehensible babble. If they couldn't understand, that was their problem, not mine.

  I found rare moments of enjoyment when travellers arrived. Their conversations were a window into the wider world, allowing me to absorb snippets of language and fragmented knowledge about the lands beyond.

  Yet one piece of information troubled me deeply—our village was a tributary to a larger kingdom in the North. That single fact carried implications I couldn’t ignore. It was a concern that would need to be addressed when I rose to power.

  This information helped me understand the vastness of the region. To the north, dense forests stretched endlessly, with descriptions of humid climates, large rivers, and heavy rainfall shaping the land.

  The east, in contrast, was rugged and drier, dominated by savanna and scattered woodlands. The west featured rolling hills and valleys, with a mix of woodlands and open grasslands.

  Meanwhile, the south became increasingly sparse, with vast savannahs and only occasional patches of woodlands.