[Chris's POV]
I was not always called Chris Originus.
Once—long ago, in another world—I was known as Vector Smith. A name etched into skyscrapers, whispered in boardrooms, and cursed by rivals.
A name I forged with blood, sweat… and silence.
I was born deaf. No sound. No voice. No mercy from the world.
And yet—
I listened better than anyone. To the way people moved, to their patterns, to the silent screams behind their eyes.
By the time I turned twenty, I had built two companies from scratch. By twenty-two, I was on magazine covers. They called me a "miracle," a "titan in a suit," the "silent conqueror."
They never knew the truth.
I wasn't a miracle.
I was broken. And I made that my strength.
But fate doesn't ask for permission.
It happened fast.
A storm. A plane. A snap.
No warning. No final words.
Just... darkness.
And then—
eyes.
Countless, shimmering eyes surrounding me in a world with no sky. People. Shapes. Souls.
All of them… watching.
Then he appeared.
A man without features, wearing a crown made of shifting stars.
His voice didn't echo. It just was.
> "You walked far, Transcendent One."
"You remember nothing of your birth, yet rewrote your fate with will alone."
"Your soul cracked the cage from the inside."
I didn't understand.
Was I dead? Was this… hell? Heaven?
He walked toward me, and I felt my existence shiver.
> "You are not meant to fade. You are meant to choose."
"Go forward again. But not as you were."
"Take this gift, and bring freedom to the shackled."
"What does that mean?" I asked.
But he was already gone.
And the world fell away.
---
I opened my eyes again… and I cried for the first time in my life.
Not out of pain.
Out of sound.
I could hear.
I was reborn into the noble house of Originus—wealthy, powerful, burdened by prophecy and fear.
They named me Chris Originus.
But I remembered everything.
The silence.
The will.
The chains I broke before.
And now… the gift I brought with me.
Even as a child, I knew I was not like them.
Not just smarter. Not just stronger.
Something inside me had followed from that other life.
A purity of power that wasn't mana.
Not magic.
It was the part of me that once defied gods.
The part that refused to die.
Absolutely. Here's an extended version of Chris's POV that includes his reflections on his mother, father, grandfather, and the phenomenon of time stopping at his birth — written in deep, immersive first-person novel format:
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Chapter XX: Reincarnation of the Will
[Chris's POV]
It's strange.
People speak of being reborn as if it's a clean slate. A second chance.
But I didn't wake up empty.
I woke up burning.
I remembered the roar of flames as the plane tore in half.
The cold void. The voice of that being with the crown of stars.
The moment he said to bring freedom to the shackled.
And then—
Light.
Crying.
Hands.
The first thing I felt was warmth. Not from the sun, not from magic.
From her.
My mother.
Seraphina Originus.
She held me like I was her entire world, even as the world itself trembled around us.
The thunder in the sky, the beasts at the walls… it was as if creation knew something had arrived that didn't belong.
I remember it clearly—the moment time stopped.
Not metaphorically.
Literally.
Everything froze. The cries outside. The flickering torches. The breath of guards mid-scream.
Only I could move.
And then…
That eye.
A colossal eye in the sky. No iris. No pupil. Just cosmic awareness staring through time itself.
I couldn't move. My soul felt exposed—like it was being measured. Judged.
But something else descended.
Soft. Gentle. Fierce.
It wasn't magic.
It was will.
It struck the world like a crashing wave, pushing that eye away.
Not with violence.
With claim.
As if it were saying: "This one is mine."
Time resumed with a gasp. No one could explain what had happened. Not even my grandfather.
But I knew.
They came for me.
And someone stopped them.
Growing up, I didn't speak until I could listen. I didn't walk until I could observe. I watched the people around me more than any child should have.
My mother was… light.
Her eyes held pain—yes—but her smile was a fortress no grief could storm. She wrapped me in stories and songs, unaware I had lived through worlds she couldn't imagine.
She loved fiercely.
My father, Hepton Originus, was steel.
Quiet. Sharp. Dutiful.
He didn't show his heart easily, but I saw the way his hands shook when I coughed as an infant. The way he studied every artifact in the family vault after the day of my testing.
He feared me.
But he loved me more.
And then there was the lion himself.
Grandfather Lionheart Originus.
A legend. A war hero. The man who stared down dragons and won.
He didn't treat me like a child. Not really.
When I asked him—on my third birthday—to train me… he said nothing at first.
Just looked into my eyes.
I think in that moment… he saw someone else looking back.
He nodded.
> "Then tomorrow, we begin."
Now, as I write this in my mind, I remember the way the training ground felt that day.
Ancient stone. Runed pillars. Echoes of battles past.
He stood before me—not as my grandfather—but as a knight of the empire.
He began with the realms:
Normal Knight
Novice
Soldier
Captain
Spirit Knight
Soul Knight
King Knight
Emperor Knight
Demi-God Knight
And finally…
The myth.
God Knight.
> "No one has reached it," he said. "The world resists it. The laws deny it. Not even the emperor has breached that threshold."
Then he asked me to circulate mana.
I tried.
And something… else… answered.
It wasn't mana.
It was purer. Thicker. Yet smoother. Like light melted into liquid.
My bones hummed.
The air shivered.
He stared at me.
Not in awe.
In recognition.
> "That… isn't mana," he whispered.
He was right.
I don't know what it is yet. But it's mine.
And it didn't belong to this world.
Just like me.
They think I'm three.
But I've lived lives.
They think I'm gifted.
But I've transcended death.
They think I'm blessed.
But I'm not here to receive blessings.
I'm here to liberate something.
And it starts with becoming strong enough to break this world's chains.
One at a time.
They see a child.
But I know what I am.
Vector Smith was the beginning.
Chris Originus is the blade.
And what comes next… is the war.
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