REINCARNATED WITH THE BOOK OF SUPREME LAWS

The door slammed open and a man stumbled inside, chest heaving, robes soaked in blood. His eyes were wide and frantic. “We have to go now!” he shouted, his voice cracking with urgency. His wife froze, clutching the child in her arms. “What is happening?” she whispered, fear shaking every word. “They are here,” he gasped. “We do not have time. We must leave this instant.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the back room. The baby cried, sharp and piercing, tiny fists flailing. The sound was both vulnerable and demanding. A figure appeared in the doorway. Black robes, silent, towering. The man in black’s eyes were unreadable. His voice was calm and even. “I will hold them. You take the child and go.” “No,” the woman replied, firm despite panic. “We do not leave anyone behind. We fight together.” The baby whimpered again, sensing the fear and urgency that hung in the room like smoke. The woman bent down, brushing a stray lock of hair from its forehead. Her eyes glimmered with love and sorrow. “I hope you live a good life,” she whispered. A tear slid down her cheek. She raised her hands and spoke a soft incantation. Light shimmered around the baby, faint at first, then growing until the child floated in the air. The man grabbed her hand. “We must go now,” he urged. She nodded once, heart heavy, and ran. Behind them, war raged. The void received the baby with endless silence. There was no sky, no ground, only emptiness. The cocoon of magic kept him alive for a moment. Then turbulence struck. The child twisted and thrashed, tiny limbs flailing against a universe without mercy. Hunger clawed at him. Cold bit like knives. Fear gnawed with sharp teeth. The body could not endure. Tiny lungs collapsed. The heart faltered. The baby fell into nothingness. Death came quietly. Yet consciousness did not vanish. Calm awareness bloomed in the darkness. Not the fragile mind of a newborn, but the clarity of a life lived. Memories of past mistakes, regrets, and words left unspoken flashed like stars. The chaos of death and terror settled into one truth. I am alive again. Eyes opened. The body was small and fragile, but the mind was fully formed. A mature awareness stretched through it. This was not a helpless infant. This was someone who had lived before. Someone who would not waste this second chance. Below stretched a wide green forest. Sunlight glittered through the leaves. Wind whispered through branches. The air smelled of wet earth and moss. Every detail cataloged itself in his mind. Hunger pressed, but it was manageable. Weak limbs did not matter. Observation, patience, and strategy mattered more. I am conscious? But how. I was certain I died, the baby thought. Then the thought changed to resolve. It does not matter how I survived. All I know is that I will not waste life this time. He tried to move. Arms flailed, legs kicked, coordination uncertain. He rolled onto his side and felt the ground scrape his skin. He tried again and managed to lift his head slightly. Muscles protested, but they were alive. He thought of the people who had sent him into the void. His parents. He remembered the fear in their eyes, the love in their hearts, and the sacrifice. They had risked everything to give him a chance at life. I will not fail them, he promised silently. Then he heard footsteps. Careful, deliberate, crunching on fallen leaves. His heart raced, not in fear, but in calculation. If they were hostile, he would die. Two humans appeared, a man and a woman. The woman’s eyes widened. “Oh, look! A baby,” she exclaimed. “Where did you come from?” The man’s expression was tense and cautious. “Do you think he will survive alone out here?” The woman bent closer. “He is so small. Just a baby. He would not last another night.” Elior’s mind calculated their intentions. They were unsure. They were kind. They would decide whether he was worth saving. He whimpered softly, letting his tiny body convey helplessness. His eyes appeared wide and innocent. Yes, he thought. Make them believe I am fragile. Make them act. The woman picked him up, warmth pressing against his cold body. The man hovered, hand ready but hesitant. “He is crying. We cannot leave him. What if someone comes back for him?” “We will take him home,” the woman said. “Feed him. Keep him warm. That is all we can do for now.” Elior’s tiny hands clutched her finger, enough to convey his life and will. He felt a thrill in shaping their decisions with nothing but expression. They carried him through the forest. Sunlight fell in golden streaks. Leaves brushed his face. Dirt pressed against his back. He memorized every step, every sound, every breath. By the time they reached a small cottage at the forest’s edge, the sun had set. Shadows stretched across the village path. Smoke curled from chimneys, mixing with the scent of herbs and baking bread. Children’s laughter echoed in the distance. The woman laid him on a straw mat, brushing a leaf from his face. “We will call you Elior,” she said softly. “It means light, strong. You will need it.” The name rolled over his mind, strange yet fitting. Samuel, his old life, was gone. A life of mistakes, failures, and regrets. He was Elior now. Another chance, another life. He tried to move. Limbs flailed, coordination uncertain. Frustration welled up, but patience reminded him. He would learn. He would survive. He would adapt. The woman hummed a soft tune. The man lingered in the doorway, protective and watchful. Every sound, every motion etched into Elior’s memory. This was survival. This was learning. This was the beginning. Exhaustion crept in. Hunger pressed against his belly, but warmth and safety dulled the pain. He curled his fists, closed his eyes, and allowed himself the faintest sense of hope. He was alive. He was conscious. He was here. For now, it was enough that these two humans had chosen him. It would have to be enough. He closed his eyes, body small but mind alert, already planning and dreaming. Tomorrow, he would learn to survive.