The wail erupted from his lungs like a siren announcing the end of the world, loud enough to wake the dead, which was ironic considering he'd just joined them. And Arthur was absolutely HORRIFIED because that wasn't his voice! That was a BABY voice! That was the voice of someone who couldn't even hold their own head up and needed help with literally everything including basic bodily functions, which was a thought that made him want to wail even louder!.
"He's got your lungs, Val!" the sweet voice laughed with pure delight, and Arthur could hear the smile in every word, could feel the joy radiating off her like heat from a sun. "Listen to him! So strong already! Such a powerful voice!"
"A warrior's cry!" the deep voice—Val, apparently, what kind of name was Val—boomed with so much pride that Arthur felt secondhand embarrassment for him, because this man was genuinely, unironically proud of 'baby screaming'! . "That's my boy! Already making his presence known! The world will hear him and tremble!".
'I'M NOT MAKING A WARRIOR CRY, I'M HAVING A COMPLETE MENTAL BREAKDOWN!' Arthur wanted to scream into the void, but his stupid baby body just kept wailing because apparently that was the only communication method available to him now.
He was wrapped in something impossibly soft, softer than anything Arthur had ever felt, the kind of soft that felt expensive and hand-crafted by people who took fabric seriously—and he was being held by warmth that felt SAFE in a way Arthur had never, ever experienced. It was the kind of safe that made him want to cry for real, ugly cry, full-body-sob cry, which was stupid because he was already crying! Someone was holding him like he was precious, like he was the most important thing in the entire universe, like he mattered in a way that Arthur Finch had never, not once in thirty years, felt like he mattered.
And that realization, that sudden understanding that someone was holding him with such genuine love and care, made him want to cry even harder, which created a horrible cycle of crying about crying!
'Okay,' he thought desperately through the tears and the confusion and the overwhelming emotions that he absolutely did not sign up for, 'okay, deep breaths, Stop screaming, Arthur! Pull yourself together! You're thirty years old, you can handle this!.
He managed, through sheer force of will and the desperate desire to stop making that horrible noise, to stop screaming, and the relief from his new parents was so immediate and overwhelming that Arthur felt like he'd accomplished something significant, which was ridiculous because "not screaming" was literally the lowest bar possible.
"Oh, there we go," his mother cooed, her voice washing over him like warm water, soothing and gentle and making him feel things he definitely didn't have the emotional capacity to process right now. "That's better, isn't it, my little star? You're alright. Everything's alright. Mama's here, and Papa's here, and we love you so much."
Arthur blinked his new eyes slowly. They felt brand new and completely useless and couldn't focus on anything properly as he tried desperately to make sense of the blurry shapes above him. Two faces swam into something resembling view, fuzzy and unclear like someone had smeared Vaseline over his eyeballs, but even through the blur he could see them radiating so much love that Arthur felt like he was drowning in it, suffocating in affection, and it was completely overwhelming for someone who'd spent three decades in emotional isolation!
'This is too much,' he thought weakly, his baby brain already starting to feel tired because apparently existing was exhausting when you were this small. 'How am i supposed to handle this?. I deal with computers! Computers don't love you! They just hate you quietly and give you error messages! This is... this is...'
But even as he thought it, even as his mind rebelled against the overwhelming emotions, something in his tiny chest felt warm and safe and maybe, possibly, potentially okay.
The first thing his baby senses managed to pick up properly—besides the terror and confusion and love and hunger and general chaos of being born—was smell, and what a smell it was! Lavender, sweet and calming and making him want to sleep forever, mixed with something else, something sharp and electric that smelled like the air right before a thunderstorm, all tingly and charged and fundamentally weird. It was such a strange combination that Arthur's brain struggled to process it, but somehow it also felt right, like this was exactly what safety was supposed to smell like.
'Okay, so I'm definitely not at Sterling Corp anymore,' he thought, trying to ground himself with logic because logic was safe and understandable. 'Obviously, because Sterling Corp smells like old coffee and broken dreams and that weird stain on the carpet no one talks about, not lavender and lightning, so this is definitely a new location, new body, new... everything, apparently.'
"Look at his eyes, Val," his mother whispered, and Arthur felt her finger gently touch his cheek with such careful tenderness that it made his chest hurt. It was warm and calloused and very careful, like she was afraid he'd break if she pressed too hard, like he was made of glass and wishes. "They're shimmering. Look at the light in them. Have you ever seen anything like it?"
Arthur tried to open his eyes wider, which was significantly harder than it should've been because infant muscle control was apparently a skill that needed to be learned, not a default setting like he'd assumed. Everything was blurry and confusing, shapes bleeding into each other, but there was also a weird tingly feeling building behind his eyeballs, like static electricity was accumulating in his skull, which seemed both concerning and oddly appropriate given his current situation of Everything Being Weird.
"Most unusual," Val rumbled, and Arthur could hear the awe creeping into his voice like sunrise painting the sky. "Very unusual indeed. Perhaps a sign of great power dwelling within him. The ancient texts spoke of children born with eyes like starlight, touched by forces beyond mortal understanding. Perhaps our son is blessed by the storm gods themselves."
A big, rough finger—so much bigger than Arthur's entire hand, which was a disturbing realization about his current size—touched his tiny baby hand, and the moment their skin made contact, Arthur felt a jolt of energy jumping between them like an overexcited puppy that had been waiting for this exact moment!
ZAP!
The spark was small but unmistakable, a tiny bolt of electricity leaping from father to son, and both parents gasped so loud and sharp that Arthur genuinely thought they were going to pass out right there!
"Oh my..." his mother started, her voice climbing into a range that only dogs should be able to hear.
Arthur's baby fist clenched on pure instinct, infant reflexes taking over, and suddenly, without any warning or permission or consultation with Arthur's very alarmed consciousness—
Crackle-snap-POP!
A tiny bolt of lightning no bigger than a firefly but definitely, unmistakably, impossibly lightning danced between his fingers like it was performing a show, crackling and sparking and generally behaving like electricity had no business behaving in a baby's hand!
"Goodness!" his mother shrieked, her voice hitting notes that probably shattered windows in the next county.
"Hahahah" Val laughed, the kind of booming laugh that shook his entire body and probably rattled the walls. "My Son!!!". He declared, voice booming.
Arthur stared at his tiny hand in absolute horror because his hand, his 'hand', was sparking like a broken wire, like a faulty electrical socket, like a very dangerous fire hazard that definitely violated multiple safety codes!
"He's perfect," his mother whispered, pulling him close to her chest, and Arthur could hear her heartbeat thundering against his tiny body, and somehow that steady rhythm made everything feel slightly less terrifying. "Our little miracle. Our lightning child."
"Perfect indeed, my lightning blossom," Val agreed, his voice going all soft and mushy in a way that made Arthur deeply uncomfortable because men weren't supposed to sound like that, all tender and emotional, except apparently this man did and didn't care who knew it. "Though perhaps we keep the lightning hands our little secret for a while, yes? At least until he can control it. Don't want to scare the servants when they come to check on him."
"Or accidentally burn down the nursery," his mother added with a laugh that sounded slightly hysterical. "That would be unfortunate."
Arthur let out another wail, this one pure distress mixed with confusion mixed with terror mixed with a tiny bit of excitement that he absolutely refused to acknowledge, and his parents immediately started cooing and shushing and rocking him like he was the most precious thing in the universe, making soft sounds and saying sweet words and generally drowning him in affection that Arthur's emotionally stunted brain had absolutely no idea how to process.
And the weird thing, the REALLY weird thing that Arthur was trying very hard not to think about, was that it felt nice, genuinely, incredibly nice, being held like this, being loved like this, being wanted like this in a way Arthur Finch had never been wanted in his entire life.
He was in a completely new world with magic and gods and who knew what else, stuck in a tiny baby body that apparently came with lightning powers and zero motor control, with brand new parents who loved him so much it was actually embarrassing to witness. This was nothing like his old life, nothing like his cubicle and his broken coffee machine and his passive-aggressive emails and his comfortable, predictable routine that had been violently interrupted by an eighteen-wheeler.
And for the first time in thirty years, Arthur Finch—or whatever his name was now, he supposed he should figure that out—felt like maybe, just maybe, possibly, potentially, this could actually be okay, or at least interesting, which was more than he could say about his previous existence.
Just as he was starting to accept his bizarre new reality and his eyes were beginning to close because being born was exhausting and he needed a nap immediately, a notification sound dinged in his mind with the cheerful tone of every annoying popup he'd ever tried to close, except this one was inside his head and he couldn't escape it!
DING!
[System Notification: Welcome, User]
Arthur's baby eyes snapped open so fast he probably pulled a muscle, which he didn't know babies could do, but apparently they could because it HURT!
Glowing text appeared in his vision like the world's most intrusive pop-up ad, floating in the air where only he could see it, hovering there with an almost smug presence, and Arthur wanted to scream because this was probably one of those worlds he'd read about.
[The Primordial Arcane System has been initiated]
[Status Unlocked]
'OH COME ON! SERIOUSLY?! I JUST GOT HERE! I'M HAVING A CRISIS! CAN'T A GUY BE REBORN WITHOUT IMMEDIATELY GETTING A LIFE MISSION?! I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO USE MY HANDS YET!'
The system hummed pleasantly, completely ignoring his mental breakdown, and more text appeared with the cheerful efficiency of a tutorial that absolutely would not be skipped no matter how many times you pressed the buttons!
[Welcome to your new life, Orion Stormveil]
Stormveil.
His name was Orion Stormveil.
That was the most protagonist name Arthur had ever heard in his entire previous life, and he'd read enough web novels during his lunch breaks to know exactly what that meant, and it meant trouble, it meant adventure, it meant he was going to have to DO THINGS and BE IMPORTANT and probably SAVE THE WORLD at some point!
A hysterical laugh bubbled up in his chest, bursting out before he could stop it, and it came out as a gurgle that sounded vaguely demonic, like a possessed baby in a horror movie, which was absolutely not the impression he wanted to make but apparently was the impression he was stuck with!
His father's eyes went as wide as dinner plates, his mouth dropping open. "Did you hear that?! He's trying to talk! Clara, our boy is trying to TALK! Not even an hour old and he's already attempting human speech! He's a genius! A prodigy! The legends were true!"
"Val, please," his mother—Seraphina, her name was Seraphina, that was nice—laughed, her whole body shaking with amusement as she kissed Arthur's forehead with such tenderness it made him want to cry again. "He's not trying to talk, my love. He's just making baby noises because he's a baby."
"Genius baby noises!" Val insisted with the conviction of a man who would not be swayed by logic or reason, puffing out his chest like a rooster who'd just won a crowing competition. "Mark my words, this child will speak within the month! I'm telling everyone! My son attempted speech on his first day! The historians will record this moment!"
'uugghh'
Orion—because apparently that was his name now and he might as well start accepting it since the system had literally just announced it to him in glowing letters—closed his eyes and tried to accept his fate with whatever dignity a newborn baby could muster, which was approximately zero. The system interface glowed softly behind his eyelids, waiting patiently like a tutorial screen that knew you'd have to deal with it eventually so it could afford to be patient, and he could feel its presence hovering there, ready to explain things he probably didn't want to know.
'Alright, universe,' Orion thought with weary resignation, exhaustion creeping through his tiny body. 'You win. I give up. Let's see what you've got. But I'm warning you right now, if there's a difficulty setting in this thing, I'm choosing Easy Mode, and if there's not an Easy Mode then I'm filing a complaint with whoever's in charge, assuming anyone's in charge, which I'm starting to doubt!'
The system hummed in response, a sound that felt almost amused, and somewhere in the distance beyond the room, thunder rumbled across the sky like the world itself was laughing at him!
His new life was beginning whether he liked it or not, and apparently it came with status screens and lightning hands and parents who thought he was a genius for burping, and honestly, Arthur—no, Orion wasn't sure if he should laugh or cry about it, so he settled for doing both simultaneously, which made his parents coo even more!
Fantastic.
Just... absolutely fantastic.
...