Outside the system space, the world was burning.
The fires began at the outskirts of **Aelthrys**, capital of the **Elvish Empire**, once called the *City of Eternal Silver*. From a distance, its crystalline towers had always shimmered like starlight woven into stone. Now they glowed orange—reflections of flames devouring the outer districts.
Human siege engines hurled molten iron that splattered like liquid suns across the shimmering barrier.
Dragons screeched across the sky, their wings casting burning shadows.
Demon warbands carved through forests, leaving corpses twisted in unnatural shapes.
The war had finally reached the gates of the empire's heart.
And the elves were dying on their own soil.
Their blood soaked the silver roads. Their songs of war—once beautiful—now cracked with despair.
Emperor **Thalorien** thundered across the battlefield astride a spectral stag of pure white mana, his golden armor cracked and stained with demon ichor. His blade, *Starcleaver*, pulsed with the light of ten thousand runes.
He cut down a demonic brute with a single swing—its body splitting apart in a shower of violet flame.
Another rushed him.
He severed its head before it could blink.
A human knight tried to flank him—Thalorien's stag impaled them through the chest, tossing the body aside without pause.
He fought like a storm given form.
But even storms have hearts that break.
A messenger, trembling and exhausted, forced his way through collapsing lines.
"Your Majesty! The palace—"
"What of it?" Thalorien snarled, cutting down another demon.
"The demon lord… an assassin… struck the nursery."
Thalorien froze.
Every sound around him seemed to vanish.
The messenger swallowed.
"The prince—your son—is missing. Either taken… or—"
He didn't finish.
He didn't need to.
Something inside the emperor shattered.
He roared—a sound so violent the air trembled. The ground beneath him cracked, mana erupting like lightning.
"No… NO!"
He slaughtered the next ten enemies with his bare hands.
Armor broke under his fingers.
Spines snapped.
Blood sprayed across the already drenched soil.
His soldiers had never seen him like this.
A general rushed to him.
"Your Majesty, you must retreat—Aelthrys needs you!"
"My son needs me!" Thalorien bellowed, voice raw with agony.
But the general did not flinch.
"Your wife needs you too."
Thalorien stopped.
Seraphielle.
His queen.
His heart.
The mother of their lost child.
He mounted his stag, and without another word, he charged toward the burning horizon.
Toward Aelthrys.
Toward the ruins of his hope.
When the emperor reached the capital, he collapsed to his knees.
Aelthrys, once serene and pure, now burned like a dying star.
The silver canals ran red with blood.
Crystalline towers lay shattered.
The air stank of ash and death.
His people wept in the streets—some for family, others for themselves.
Thalorien's heart pounded like a war drum.
He pushed past corpses and ruins until he reached the palace.
Soldiers saluted him, but their eyes were filled with sorrow.
Seraphielle stood on a balcony overlooking the broken city, her wings torn, her gown stained with gore. She trembled as she sensed him.
"Thalorien…"
He rushed to her and pulled her into his arms.
She collapsed against him, sobbing.
"It was my fault," she whispered brokenly. "I left him. I left our baby alone."
"No," he murmured, though his voice cracked. "It was the war's fault. The world's fault."
But she shook her head violently.
"You don't understand… I felt him disappear. I felt the magic consume the room. I reached him too late. My baby—our baby—he was gone. Nothing left but ash and shadow."
Her voice broke completely.
Thalorien held her tighter, but comfort meant nothing. Nothing could soothe a wound this deep.
After hours of trying to calm her, he realized he could not.
Grief drowned them both.
And so, unable to face the suffocating pain, unable to breathe, unable to think without breaking—
The emperor fled into battle.
Just as the queen had done before him.
War was the only thing that numbed the agony.
The next days were carnage.
Thalorien fought at the northern gate—slaying fifty enemies in an hour.
Seraphielle fought at the eastern wall—bleeding from her palms as she held the barrier together with raw force.
The elves fought beside them, one by one falling like dying stars.
Aelthrys shook with every impact.
Dragonfire melted towers into rivers of glass.
Humans unleashed artillery that cracked even enchanted stone.
Demons tunneled beneath the earth, dragging screaming defenders into darkness.
The empire was bleeding from every vein.
And the only thing that kept the queen and emperor moving was the need to escape their thoughts.
To avoid seeing their son's empty cradle in their minds.
---
## **INSIDE THE SYSTEM SPACE**
But Liam was not dead.
He stood on soft glowing grass, staring at the still blue ocean stretching infinitely. He felt no hunger, no fatigue, no fear. The sky above shimmered with gentle light.
He exhaled, calming himself.
Here, he could think clearly.
A soft bell chimed.
Words appeared in the air:
**SYSTEM BOOT COMPLETE.
WELCOME, HOST.**
A sphere of blue light materialized before him.
It spoke—not with a voice, but with calm pulses of energy translating into thoughts.
**"You are safe.
Physical body preserved.
Mind stabilized.
Time dilation active."**
"Time… dilation?" Liam whispered.
**"One day in the outside world equals one hour here."**
His eyes widened.
If he stayed long enough, he could grow stronger before returning.
The sphere expanded, revealing panels of light.
---
## **SYSTEM STATUS**
**HOST:** Liam Aelthrys
**AGE:** 0 years, 8 months
**RACE:** Elvish-Human anomaly
**TIER:** Unranked
**STATUS:** Safe (System Sanctuary)
### **Attributes**
Strength: 0.4
Agility: 0.5
Mana: ???
Vitality: 0.3
Willpower: 8.0
Liam blinked.
"Eight willpower? That's… high?"
**"Host's reincarnated soul increases resistance to fear, madness, and mental domination.
Mana remains unknown—sealed."**
"Sealed by what?"
The system flickered.
**"…UNDETERMINED."**
That wasn't comforting.
Another panel unfolded.
---
## **BEGINNER SYSTEM FUNCTIONS UNLOCKED**
* **Status**
* **Skill Library**
* **Training Field**
* **Memory Archive**
* **System Sanctuary (current location)**
A final icon blinked red.
* **??? (Locked)**
Liam reached toward it.
His hand passed through empty air.
The system beeped.
**"Locked function requires host to reach Tier 1."**
"How do I reach Tier 1?"
A path of glowing steps formed before him, curving over the ocean.
**"TRAINING BEGINS WHEN YOU TAKE THE FIRST STEP."**
He stared at the path.
This world—the system space—was meant to grow him.
To prepare him.
To save him.
But outside…
His mother was screaming his name.
His father was drowning his grief in blood.
His empire was collapsing.
Liam looked at the glowing sky.
"System."
**"Yes, host."**
"Will I be able to return?"
**"When you are strong enough to survive."**
"And my parents?"
Silence.
Then:
**"They live.
But their world is dying."**
Liam swallowed hard.
A baby's body didn't allow crying here, but his soul trembled.
He wasn't supposed to exist.
The world wanted him dead.
But this system wanted him alive.
His tiny hands clenched.
"Then teach me," he whispered. "Make me strong."
The ocean wind shifted, warm and welcoming.
**"Step forward, host.
Your path begins now."**
Liam stepped onto the glowing bridge.
Light surged around him.
The system space hummed with limitless potential.
A child's form…
But a warrior's destiny.
---
BACK OUTSIDE — BLOOD AND FURY
Thunder cracked across the battlefield as Thalorien tore through enemy ranks. His golden armor was dented, his hair matted with blood—some his, much not.
A demon lunged.
He split it in half.
A human archer released a volatile arrow toward him.
He deflected it with a snarl.
A dragon swooped overhead, spewing flame.
Thalorien roared and hurled a spear of light through its heart.
The beast crashed into the burning city, shaking the ground.
The elves rallied for a moment at the sight of their emperor's unmatched wrath.
But even gods could break.
That night, Thalorien returned to the palace, his steps heavy.
Seraphielle waited for him in the throne hall—eyes red, wings dragging against the floor. Her voice cracked as she whispered:
"Did you find anything?"
He didn't answer.
His silence was answer enough.
She collapsed into his arms, tears soaking his armor.
"Why…" she choked. "Why did the world take him? Why him? Why our child?"
Thalorien held her tightly, though he felt as hollow as she did.
"We will find him," he murmured. "Even if I must burn the realms to ash."
But deep inside…
They were both breaking.
And war was the only escape from the grief that threatened to consume them entirely.
---
IN THE SYSTEM SPACE — FIRST STEP
Liam moved along the glowing bridge until it opened into a vast training field—a white plain dotted with floating stones, towering constructs, and shimmering runes.
The system spoke:
**"HOST WILL BEGIN WITH FOUNDATION DEVELOPMENT."**
A humanoid silhouette formed—featureless and blue.
**"This is your first training opponent.
Combat difficulty: minimal."**
Liam stared at it.
"…System, I'm a baby."
**"Here, your soul fights.
Your body is irrelevant."**
The silhouette lunged.
Liam's instincts screamed at him.
He stepped back—faster than any baby could.
The thrill of movement without physical limitation felt intoxicating.
The figure attacked again.
Liam dodged.
A heat built in his chest.
Magic?
The system whispered:
**"Find your center, host.
Your mana answers only to your will."**
Liam thrust out his hand.
A burst of blue energy shot forward—raw, unfocused, but powerful enough to shatter the training dummy.
Light crackled around his arm.
He gasped.
He wasn't helpless anymore.
He would grow.
He would learn.
And he would return.
---
The system space hummed with approval.
**"WELL DONE, HOST.
TRAINING PROGRESS: 1%."**
Liam exhaled.
A beginning.
Only a beginning.
But he would not waste this chance.
He would claw his way toward strength.
Toward freedom.
Toward home.
The prince who shouldn't exist—
would become the force the world could never expect.