REINCARNATED WITH THE BOOK OF SUPREME LAWS

A NEW HOME, A QUIET RESOLVE

Warmth.

Soft, gentle warmth pressed against my cheek, and a steady heartbeat echoed near my ear, slow and soothing. For a moment I forgot everything the panic, the hunger, the shock of waking up in a forest newborn and helpless. I simply existed in the calm rise and fall of someone’s chest.

So this is what comfort feels like when life gives you a second chance.

A woman's voice hummed above me. The kind of humming people do not to perform, but to calm their own hearts. Thoughtful, soft, honest. Fingers brushed dirt from my face, tender, careful, like I was something fragile and precious.

“Poor little thing,” she whispered. “So tiny… who leaves a baby alone out there?”

Tiny.

If only she knew.

The man walking beside her wasn't as easily swayed. His voice was tight, restless.

“We could’ve left him,” he muttered. “We don’t know where he came from, Rina. Who knows what trouble comes with him?”

She ignored him. The type of woman who hears danger and chooses love anyway. Stubborn. Gentle. Dangerous combination.

I let out a small wiggle, pure innocent baby acting, Oscar-worthy and blinked up at them. Big eyes, helpless expression, a little drool for flavor. A baby’s face is a weapon. I wielded it well.

The woman smiled like sunlight breaking through clouds.

“Look at him, Aran. You think I could walk away from this face?”

The man swallowed, visibly losing the battle. “He’s… staring right at me.”

Of course I am, sir. I am mentally thirty-something and mildly traumatized. Eye contact is survival.

He looked away first.

Weak.

I rewarded them with a soft coo. A tactical one.

The woman clutched me closer, as if daring the world to stop her. “He’s ours.”

Ours.

She said it so casually, but the word lodged itself in my chest like a glowing ember.

Do you know the weight of that word when you have died once? When the world you left behind forgot your name, and you slipped out of existence with no one to cry for you?

She just handed me belonging like it was nothing.

And suddenly… breathing felt fragile.

A small sound escaped me an instinctive whimper, not controlled, not planned. Embarrassing, really. But she only smiled as though I had just sworn loyalty.

Aran sighed the sigh of a tired man signing up for decades of responsibility he wasn't prepared for, but would take on anyway.

“Then we take him home,” he muttered. “And hope we’re doing the right thing.”

Hope.

Funny thing, hope. It feels heavier than fear when you haven't held it in a long time.

This time, I wouldn’t waste it.

We walked out of the forest. The world opened: wide sky, distant hills, fields tinged gold from a setting sun. A small village sat quietly ahead, simple and worn, but alive in a way bustling cities never are. Smoke curled from chimneys, a dog barked far away, and children’s laughter echoed somewhere between the houses.

A humble place. Unpolished. Real.

And somehow, that scared me more than danger.

A peaceful life… is something you can lose.

Villagers looked up as we passed. Curiosity. Suspicion. Whispered questions. Humanity in its natural state — always observing, always judging.

But Rina walked like she owed no answers. A woman who decided, and the world simply had to adjust. Aran followed, shoulders tense but steps matching hers.

We reached a wooden cottage near the edge of the village — old walls, patched roof, herbs drying near the window. Everything humble, hardworking, sincere. The door creaked open.

Home.

A real one. The kind made of warmth instead of walls.

Rina laid me by the fire on a soft blanket that smelled faintly of herbs and bread, brushing my cheek with the back of her fingers.

“We’ll call him… Elior.”

Elior.

My new life. My new identity. My old name — Samuel — faded like smoke in wind.

Elior felt lighter. Brighter. Hopeful.

Aran knelt beside us. “We need a story. People will question.”

“Let them,” she replied calmly. “He was alone. Now he’s ours, and that’s enough.”

His expression softened, resignation turning into a quiet, nervous devotion. “Then… welcome to the family, Elior.”

Their hands were rough from work, but gentle. More gentle than the world had ever been to me before.

In my old life, I lived quietly, worked quietly, died quietly. No one held me. No one called me theirs.

Here? On my first day? Someone already fought for me.

I swore then, silently, to never disappoint them. To grow strong. To build something worth protecting. To not waste this.

Days passed. I mastered the art of pretending to be helpless. Which — unfortunately — I was. Limbs weak, neck flopping like cooked noodle, communication limited to babbling and strategic cuteness.

Dignity died with adulthood, apparently.

But while my body slept, my mind sharpened. I memorized voices, learned the rhythm of their footsteps, the cadence of this world. I watched villagers through the window, studying their movements, their quiet routines. There was something in the air here — not mystical in a dramatic sense, but… awake.

Alive.

At night, when they believed I slept, I listened to the slow crackle of the fire and the soft breathing of the people who saved me. And sometimes, beneath everything, I felt a faint hum in my bones. Not magic as legends told it. Not yet. But something old and patient, like the world itself acknowledging me.

The universe didn’t crown me chosen. It simply whispered:

Become.

And I will.

One night, when the fire was low and shadows danced along the wooden walls, Rina whispered softly to Aran:

“He smiled today. You saw it, right? He trusts us.”

Aran hesitated, then chuckled quietly. “He looks at us like he understands every word.”

She stroked my tiny hand. “Then we raise him to be good.”

Not powerful.

Not legendary.

Good.

I had to close my eyes to keep tears from spilling — ridiculous considering my body cried over milk earlier.

Aran murmured, voice low with sincerity he tried to hide, “I just hope… we can give him the life he deserves.”

Rina leaned against him. “A small, joyful life is still a gift.”

No.

Not small.

Not this time.

They offered me love without asking who I was. Without expecting anything in return. That alone is enough reason to change the world for them.

I drifted to sleep soothed not by magic or power, but by something rare and priceless:

Belonging.

This time, I will rise.

Not because fate picked me.

Not to become a god or ruler or legend.

But to repay kindness.

To protect a home freely given.

My name is Elior.

And this life — I will carve it myself, no matter the cost.

Even if I start by learning to sit without falling over.

Small steps.

Great journey.