Where was he?
What the fuck's that crying sound in the background.
So annoying.
And why are the lights so harsh?
Was he on the surgery table?
What on the fucking balmsy earth.
"Look! It's a boy."
No shit. He obviousy had a dick. What's with the doctors nowadays.
"My lady, he's very healthy as well! Kicking and whatnot!"
Shit. Were they talking about him?
He could finally squint his eyes open just a slit.
What.
The.
Fuck.
Why was he in a medieval-themed hospital?
It was a Western place, like some grand Viennese atelier, with fancy drapes on the far wall and a chandelier with, is that real candles?, glittering gold, and two ladies dressed in medieval maid cosplay hovering about him, both wearing bloodied gloves and holding a variety of instruments and basins.
Where the fuck did he die to? Is this Western heaven? Was Christianity proven the correct religion in the end?
"He looks intelligent too, Madam! Look at those curious big eyes!"
Fuck you lady. My intelligence is beyond your comprehension, you medieval-ass angel hanging around holding a stupid little pot. He gave her the finger.
Wait.
Is that little stub his own hand?
Why the fuck is he a baby???!?!?!?!!!?!?!!!!
-----------------------------------------------------------
After crawling about for a few months he realized he was wrong. This is no heaven. No heaven in its right mind would not have air conditioning in the middle of summer, even if summer here was slightly cooler than summers in Tokyo. Still.
Also, this world is a fantasy world.
What an irony.
He'd been isekaied.
Serves him right for being a Fantasy fan for all his life.
Being isekaied is nothing like how those cheap mangas portray it. First of all, they didn't mention the HEAT. Without air conditioning, and born into the summer season of this palace that has little venting, tortured his infantile body to the extreme, and oftentimes he felt like his uncontrollable diaper-wettings could be blamed onto the temperature.
Nevertheless, there were interesting things to be found here as well.
The world's called Selliva, and it's apparently split into kingdoms. Also, their world map is probably inaccurate, seeing as they are pretty much pre-columbus technology.
There were many kingdoms just two decades ago, from what he could deduce from the thick-ass tomes with weird letters looking like the Viking futhark that he could somehow understand.
Like, he couldn't really tell anyone how he knew, but he just did, as soon as he read a line, it formed meaning in his mind.
Stupid. Yeah. Must be some sort of auto-translation given to him by whatever force teleported him here.
He was teleported right into the Daeceran Empire, an extremely big-ass swathe of land that seemed to cover every contemporary map he could find. Apparently, it's a new thing founded by his father, who's none other than Tarkhan Daecerus, a guy who has so many titles you wouldn't believe. He's most notoriously known as the Iron Lord, for apparently he trusts not in magic, which is supposedly op and the go-to meta of every lord in this place. Instead, he arms his soldiers with nothing but iron, yet somehow wins every war he's fought, expanding his land from nothing to basically everything in the matter of two decades.
Now insert himself.
Temius Daecerus, the newest child of the mighty Tarkhan, born to him by one of his concubines, of which he has supposedly over a thousand.
Yeah. The man's living the harem dream.
His mother's name is Trecia, some random noble's daughter that Tarkhan picked up along the way for the dowry and military support, but then decided she was beautiful enough to take to bed and voila. Here sprouts him, in all his grand glory and wet diaper.
Supposedly, there is lot of court intrigue and stuff, based on what his mother keeps murmuring to herself and discussing with her retainers, the tall fat man Alphonce and the lanky guy with the shady eyes.
However, these were yet to touch him. Stuff like inheritance and status and whatever.
He's just a baby. So he's got to take the time to just enjoy life in a fantasy world. Sort of fulfilling his lifelong dream of creating the perfect fantasy story, except now he's much more useless than say the creator of that story.
He spends his mornings crawling about and losing the maids that were asked to watch over him, often needing to play possum for very very long before finally snatching a moment of inattentiveness and make his escape.
Once he could escape he'd crawl to the Fugolian Library in this specific palace of Tarkhan's, and try to learn the magic system.
After all. Every fantasy writer knows that the magic system is how you break your world.
The only way to become OP.
One such tome he'd found, a thick-ass leatherbound spellbook had the most law-breaking set of spells he'd ever imagined possible. No self-respecting writer would ever put in such an obviously op skill tree in their worlds. It was gravity magic.
He kept trying to read it. Of course, the book was all theory, so it wasn't till he could go to school before he actually started to try stuff, but that book, though very unassuming and a seemingly time-wasting dive into magic theory, actually held all the possibilities of the world. Gravity is nothing but the relationship between space... imagine that.
At nights he'd be too worn out to do anything, so he usually slept.
Not always though.
One night about four years after he'd been reincarnated, he heard a rustle from the window on the far wall from where he slept.
Holy shit.
It's probably some sort of assassin, seeing as Tarkhan is pretty important. The assassin probably thought the best point of entry would be a child's bedroom. However, not this child's bedroom.
Osamu ran as fast as he could, familiar with all the corridors already, straight to the fat guy Alphonce's room.
He banged the door as hard as he could, but no answer came within.
He couldn't care any longer so he ran across the long corridors, braziers still alight with magic on the buttresses, his shadows dancing long across the marbled pavement.
Fuck fuck fuck.
Why are his legs so stubby?
He burst into his mother's room.
"Ma! Wake the fuck up! Assassins round the bend!"
His mother elegantly rose and activated a little magic lamp that spewed blue fire. Very curious little thing, but now's not the time to think about it.
"Quick! Get the fuck out of your bed!"
"What's the matter, child? Why are you crazed and spouting some foreign language?"
Fuck, he'd been so excited that he'd changed to his mother tongue.
"Ma. Assassins. Run. Quick. Fuck."
Fuck indeed.
A man came into the room in a rush, clothed all in black and whatnot. Very menacing.
"Who are you!" His mother was indignant.
Fuck. If only the woman had the sense of a frog. Sorry, sorry. One doesn't just cuss out their mother.
There was no time. None of the retainers or maids were in vincinity, lazy bastards.
It was up to him.
"Magic!" He yelled.
He held out his hands in a shooting position. Nothing came out.
"Fuck! Magic! Maha yaha Magic Boom Boom Das!"
Not much use either. Fuck. The theories in the books were NOT translating into real life. Apparently they said that there were two parts to magic: the logical side and the abstract side. The logical side required strong thinking capabilities, with the books often mentioning the ability to split the mind in contrary to each other to be able to craft complex thinking patterns as to use the abstract side to the best of the spellcaster's abilities.
However, there was also the abstract side, which was how the human actually accessed the magic that is simply... there. Some books say that extreme emotions or desires or strong imaginations can do that for you, while others say that without a solid theory on logical magic it was useless.
He didn't know, but all he knew was that the assassin had stabbed his mother already.
Repeatedly.
Fuck. He had to do something.
The guy in black came for him now.
"MAGIC. FUCK YOU. MAGIC."
The man stabbed him.
Right in the chest.
And holy shit did it hurt.
He couldn't breathe.
Seriously?
Something boomed the heck loud and unfortunately he blacked out from the loss of air and the heart-rending torture inflicted on his tiny four-year-old heart.