The metallic stench of blood, the sharp sting of gunpowder, and the final screams of his teammates who had betrayed him in the depths of the South American jungle were still vivid in his nerve endings. A sniper bullet had pierced his left chest, bringing an end to his life as one of the deadliest mercenaries on Earth. Rian had thought death was the absolute end—a silent eternity following a lifetime steeped in blood, bullets, and betrayal.

Yet, the darkness did not last.

The first sensation to hit his consciousness was not the stillness of the grave, but the rush of a freezing wind whistling through the cracks of fragile wooden walls. The chill bit straight to his bones, far sharper than the snows of the Siberian mountains. Then came a suffocating pressure on his chest, as if his lungs were being forced to operate in a vacuum.

Rian tried to blink, but his eyelids felt immensely heavy, as though weighted down by tons of lead. He attempted to twitch his right index finger—to feel the texture of the ground or reach for his weapon of choice, the tactical combat knife always tucked at his waist.

Nothing.

His fingers felt stubby, soft, and completely devoid of the calloused, muscular form he once took pride in. His movements were beyond his control, reduced to nothing more than weak, involuntary twitches.

Where am I? Am I alive in some underground medical facility? Rian thought, his inner voice remaining sharp, cold, and composed as ever.

Suddenly, a high-pitched cry burst from his mouth. The sound was foreign, piercing, and shrill—the unmistakable wail of a newborn human fresh out of the womb.

Rian froze within his own mind. A baby? Was he... reincarnated?

Slowly, the fog in his mind began to clear. His past memories as an elite mercenary—from survival training in war zones and tracking enemy positions in pitch darkness to the exact moments of the vile betrayal by his own commander—remained fully intact, neatly stored in the deepest corners of his mind. Those memories now clashed sharply with his new biological reality: he was trapped in a utterly helpless body.

Regulating his breathing as his mind adapted to his undeveloped organs, Rian began a methodical situational analysis, just as he used to do before infiltrating an enemy compound.

First: environment, he calculated coldly.

He could hear the creaking of old wood every time a strong gust blew outside. The hut’s roof seemed to leak, as cold drops of water dripped onto the straw he was lying on. The air smelled of damp straw, faint woodsmoke, and a pungent, sour sweat. This was no secret medical facility, nor a modern military base. This was a secluded shack, far removed from advanced civilization.

Second: physical condition.

His bones were soft, his muscles undeveloped, and his nervous system overly sensitive to external stimuli. If a wild beast or an armed enemy were to attack right now, he could do nothing but die a gruesome second death. His past physical advantages had vanished completely.

Third: social status.

Judging by the dilapidated wood of the hut and the raspy coughing coming from the corner of the room, he knew the family taking him in belonged to the lowest caste of society. No luxury, no servants—only suffocating poverty.

"Shh... quiet now, my child. You're safe. Mommy's here," a soft female voice gently spoke nearby. Her voice was hoarse with exhaustion, heavy with the pain of childbirth, yet wrapped in an extraordinarily genuine warmth.

Rian felt his tiny body being slowly lifted from the heap of rough straw. A pair of calloused hands, marked with scars from hard labor, held him tightly against the mother’s chest. The embrace felt fragile compared to the steel body armor he used to wear on the battlefield, yet it carried an emotional tremor the orphan-turned-mercenary had never experienced since childhood.

In the dimly lit corner of the room, illuminated by the flickering, near-extinguished flame of a small oil lamp, a lightly bearded man clad in tattered explorer’s clothes approached. His face was gaunt, pale, and drenched in cold sweat, yet his eyes shone with deep relief as he looked at the infant in his wife's arms.

"Is he safe, Elen?" the middle-aged man asked, his breath ragged. His voice trembled violently, betraying a deep-seated dread of the death that so frequently claimed infants in their impoverished village during the harsh winter.

The woman named Elen gave a weak smile, her tears dripping down onto Rian's tiny cheek. "Yes, Markus. Look at him... he's strong. His cries were so loud tonight, as if fighting against the cold world."

Cradled in his mother's arms, Rian went silent. In his first life, he had never known the meaning of family. His parents had abandoned him at a military orphanage when he was three, raising him to be a heartless killing machine who ultimately died stabbed in the back by his comrades for money. The genuine affection from these two strangers in a dilapidated shack felt alien, strange, and subtly triggered his mental defenses.

Can they be trusted?

The question arose automatically. As a former mercenary, he had been trained never to trust anyone—not even his own shadow. Yet, seeing the tears of relief in Elen's eyes, the icy wall around Rian's heart cracked slightly.

Very well, Rian decided coldly. In this new world, you two are my first allies. And whoever dares to take this small piece of peace away... will suffer tenfold.

The name of this world, based on the faint whispers he had caught from the villagers' chatter before his consciousness fully stabilized, was Oakhaven—a vast continent ruled not only by the law of the jungle and tyrannical nobles, but by something far more fundamental and dangerous: Magic.

Suddenly, amidst the silence of the cold night, a strange sensation coursed through the baby's veins.

It felt like a subtle, tiny electric shock, flowing from the tips of his toes up through his spine, before centering in his chest. It was not painful, but rather a warm thrumming pulse that sharpened his hearing instantly. Through the dark night, he could clearly hear his father's heartbeat in the corner and the howling wind against the wooden walls.

Rian gasped inwardly. The sensation was so real, so concentrated, and completely defied the laws of physics on Earth.

Is that... mana energy? he thought in astonishment.

The strange flow of energy swirled within his tiny baby body, actively responding to the remnants of his past soul's iron will. It proved one absolute truth that completely redrew his strategic mindset: the magic system in this world was real. And even more surprisingly, this energy could be accessed, trained, and mastered—even from within the body of a newborn.

Outside the hut, the long howl of a forest monster shattered the night's silence, serving as a grim welcome to the soul of a killer now reborn in a world of darkness.