It's been a few years since I was reincarnated.
When I was born, I could barely see… barely hear… barely make sense of anything at all.
Everything was a blur—cold sounds, muffled light, disjointed thoughts. It was terrifying.
An infant's body is limiting in more ways than you'd think. No strength, no words, no control.
Just screaming, hunger, and strange eyes peering down at you.
It took weeks—maybe months—for me to adjust to this new life.
My mother was the first familiar presence I could cling to.
She's a kind woman with gentle blue eyes and hair like moonlit water. Like everyone else in this village.
Language was my first major hurdle. The Migurds rarely spoke.
This tribe—mostly communicate through telepathy. Their mouths move only when necessary. Their thoughts, emotions, intentions—they ripple directly into each other's minds like soft echoes.
Telepathy, blue hair, blue eyes, petite builds.
It all clicked.
This is the world of Mushoku Tensei. The six-faced world.
I've watched this anime. I remember it clearly. It's the story of Rudeus Greyrat.
'So… this is where I ended up?'
Honestly, I was relieved. That strange deity had told me I wouldn't be reborn as a human. For a moment I feared I'd be reborn as a slime like a certain anime, hell I could have been a goblin.
But this… this I could work with. I was still humanoid, human-like.
Even though we could communicate through thought, I pestered my mother to teach me the Demon God Tongue. She was a former adventurer and surprisingly fluent in both Human Language and the Beast God Tongue as well. I wished to learn both.
She was happy to teach me.
She's also a mage.
An Advanced Ranked Mage, to be precise. Her control over water and earth is flawless, though she no longer adventures. Sometimes, during the quiet evenings, she tells me stories from her younger days—treks through Labyrinths, monster hunts. The kind of tales that make you wonder if she's exaggerating.
Maybe she is.
But I love hearing them anyway.
The moment I confirmed magic existed here, I didn't wait. I searched the house and, sure enough, found old magic books tucked in a chest—probably leftovers from her adventuring days.
Thanks to my language learning obsession, I was able to understand the incantations fairly early.
I chose the classic: Fireball
At first in front of my hands there's only sparks.
Tiny flickers. Embers that couldn't light a candle, then as I completed the spell a bright round fireball appeared. My silvery scales in my hands glowed a little. I felt a warm sensation in my whole body as the mana moved.
My first fireball.
It sputtered, fizzled in the air, and vanished before hitting anything.
But the mana exhaustion didn't hit me apparently.
My mana poo was noticeably higher than Rudeus at the same age.
Maybe it had something to do with my hybrid lineage.
When I asked my mother about my strange traits—my white-silver hair, my slitted pupils, the scales on the side of my eyes and forearms—she hesitated.
The villagers already looked at me like I was an anomaly.
No other Migurd child had ever been born like this.
Finally, one night as we watched the stars, I asked her directly.
"Mother... is my father a Dragonfolk?". I looked a lot like them but they are an extinct race.
" That—I don't know. "
There was something sad in her voice when she said that. A memory maybe. Or a regret.
I didn't press further.
But the village elder had already suspected it. A child born after ten years of pregnancy? Unheard of among the Migurds.
So I've kept my training hidden. My spells, my mana, my rapid growth
The fewer people who know about my mana, the better it is.
Until I grow strong enough. Until I can explore this world.
It's been four years since I came to this world.
Most of my daily routine revolves around a very simple formula:
Burn mana. Repeat.
Every day, I go through my mother's old magic books and cast whatever spells I can—fireballs, water balls, wind blades. My goal?
Completely empty my mana pool.
At first, it was exhausting. A few spells and I'd collapse like a wet towel.
Now? I can cast basic fireballs for hours, and I won't feel a thing. My mana pool kept growing exponentially.
Magic isn't just about incantation—it's about visualization and understanding.
Not only have I learned intermediate spells of all elemental schools, I've also taught myself how to cast them silently—without incantation.
Naturally, I kept this a secret.
…At least, I tried to.
It happened one afternoon.
I was behind our house, attempting a silent-cast Ice Lance.
I knew it was risky, but I thought I had at least two hours before my mother came home.
I was wrong.
As the spell took shape and the icy spear shimmered in midair, I jumped with joy.
"Yes! Nailed it!"
And that's when I saw her.
Standing a few meters away, arms crossed, eyes wide, a flicker of shock quickly shifting to concern… then anger… then something oddly close to pride.
"You—where did you learn that?"
"...Books?"
"And why didn't you tell me?! You could have hurt yourself! What if someone else had seen?"
After scolding me like I'd just broken the universe, she finally sighed, smiled faintly, and ruffled my hair.
"You're talented… too talented. But you mustn't show this in front of the others. Promise me that."
I nodded quickly.
From that day on, Mother began taking me out to a deserted field near our village to practice. A quiet place—our little secret training ground.
The first time I cast a silent spell in front of her, her face contorted into the most shocked expression I've ever seen on a Migurd.
And let me tell you—most Migurds have that calm, expressionless, "nothing surprises me" face. So watching her jaw drop was hilarious.
Today, however, wasn't about magic.
Today, something horrible was happening.
I was being forced... to socialize.
"Go outside and play with the other kids,"
Mother said, as she physically pulled me away from the doorframe where I clung like a desperate cat.
"No! I have reading to do!"
After a mini battle with her—mostly verbal, slightly dramatic—I reluctantly gave in.
With all the grace of a martyred saint, I trudged toward the area where the kids usually gathered.
I could feel her watching me, following me.
She was doing a terrible job at hiding—peeking out from behind tree trunks, crouching behind rocks.
Honestly, her stealth stat was zero.
When I reached the playground area, I spotted a few Migurd kids throwing sand at each other.
Heh! Primitive.
Do I really have to throw dirt at strangers to fit in?
Apparently not.
The moment they noticed me, they froze… and then bolted.
No hesitation. No questions.
Just ran away like I was a monster.
Honestly, it stung a little.
Sure, I was different—white-silver hair, blue slit-pupiled eyes.
But I didn't think I looked that scary.
Whatever.
I glanced around, then sighed dramatically.
"Mom told me to play… but no one wants to play with me… wuwu…"
I sniffled, rubbing my eyes and wobbling in place.
Oscar-worthy.
I even added a sad little "I won't come here again… wuwu…" for effect, making sure my mother could hear me.
Haha. Acting skills: S-Rank.
After that, I went back home, all gloomy and tragic.
Mother was visibly shaken. I could feel her guilt bleeding through the walls.
Mission accomplished.
---
The next day, I woke up to something strange.
There was a group of kids standing at my doorstep.
"Let's play"
I blinked.
What in the name of Laplace…?
I turned to my mother, who was beaming.
"What happened?" I asked cautiously.
Apparently, it wasn't just my mother a few adults in the tribe had witnessed my dramatic monologue yesterday.
They felt bad.
Really bad.
So they lectured their kids about acceptance, tribe values, and how I was one of them, regardless of appearances.
And just like that, I had new playmates.
Mother was genuinely happy.
Her eyes shimmered, and she hugged me tighter than usual.
"See? You're not alone, my little lizard."
I didn't say it out loud, but…
It feels good here.