It’s finally happening. Tomorrow, finally, I’ll stop being just a baby flailing around like a drunk garden gnome and start being. The, baby. The kind of baby that might just rewrite destiny and give fate the metaphorical middle finger. Am I excited? Hell yeah. Am I terrified? Absolutely. But there’s one thing I know for sure: I’m not ready, and that’s a problem.
Tomorrow isn’t just a milestone where people shove cake in my face and pretend I care—it’s the day my system activates. The day I finally get access to the tools that might save me from the biggest spoiler of my life: my death.
Yep, you heard me. This baby’s already got an expiration date. And unlike milk, I can’t just blame it on bad refrigeration. No, my fate was sealed the moment I entered this world. According to the game I remember so vividly, I’m supposed to die. Not even in a dramatic, blaze-of-glory kind of way. Nope, just good old-fashioned murder. Before the war, before the real action, before I even get to make a difference, someone’s coming for me.
“Ciro,” the game said, “died tragically.” Well, screw that noise.
But let’s hit pause on the existential dread for a second. Something big happened recently: I started walking. Oh, yeah. You’re looking at a fully mobile one-year-old now. I mean, sure, I waddle like a penguin with vertigo, but I’m moving. It’s freedom. Sweet, glorious freedom. No more being stuck in that glorified prison called a crib, staring at the ceiling like some kind of bored philosopher baby.
The first steps were brutal. My legs felt like wet noodles, and gravity is a jerk. But every stumble, every faceplant into the carpet, was worth it. I’ve upgraded from “helpless lump” to “stubborn explorer.” Now I wander around the house like I’m on a mission, probably freaking out my parents. They think I’m some kind of prodigy. Ha! Joke’s on them—I’m just desperate to survive.
Let’s talk about my parents for a second. They’re sweet, doting, and honestly clueless about the storm brewing under their noses. To them, I’m just their “little miracle,” a baby who somehow learned to walk early. If only they knew I was busy plotting my escape from an untimely demise. But hey, I can’t blame them. They’re just living their simple, happy lives in a world that’s anything but simple.
The world itself is wild. Imagine a patchwork quilt of kingdoms, each with its own quirks, politics, and people, all barely holding it together while a cosmic dumpster fire rages in the background. Magic? Check. Monsters? Double check. And don’t even get me started on the looming war that’s just waiting to break out. It’s like living inside a soap opera directed by someone on way too much caffeine.
And then there’s the system. The lifeline I’ve been waiting for. It’s not just a game mechanic—it’s survival. Tomorrow, when it activates, I’ll finally have access to skills, stats, and powers. Powers that might give me the edge I need to avoid being a footnote in this world’s history. I can almost feel it now, the potential thrumming in my soul like a tiny spark waiting to ignite.
What’s the plan, you ask? Simple: I’ll grind. Like an absolute maniac. I’ll level up faster than you can say “destiny,” unlock every ability I can, and get strong enough to survive. If that means pulling an all-nighter tomorrow to figure out the system, so be it. Sleep is for the weak—or for babies who don’t have assassins gunning for them.
The house was a frenzy of activity as Clara, my mother’s ever-efficient maid, zipped from one end of the grand manor to the other. Every corner of the estate was being prepared for my first birthday celebration. If there was a single crevice that hadn’t been polished or an inch of floor that hadn’t been swept, Clara would personally oversee it. There was no room for error when it came to this sort of occasion.
My father, Count Valdris, was seated at the grand wooden table in the study, papers strewn across it like an ocean of bureaucracy, and his long fingers expertly traced a quill along the parchment, making notes on some important document. Despite the weight of responsibility bearing down on him, he found time to glance at me from time to time, a rare smile tugging at his lips whenever our gazes met. His sharp features, already striking with that high-boned face, looked even more so when softened by the affection he kept hidden behind that veneer of sternness.
"Boy," he said, his voice booming with that characteristic authority, “today is the day we introduce you to the world." His eyes twinkled slightly. "One year old already, and already walking and talking." He made a brief pause, like he was digesting this idea. "I sense strength in you, son."
It was a strange comment, especially since I wasn’t doing anything particularly impressive at that moment. I could only babble incoherently like the baby I was. But perhaps he was talking about potential. If only he knew how close he was to the truth. "Strength" was definitely coming for me, though not in the way he might expect.
Father had taken to calling me “Boy” ever since I was born, but honestly, I didn’t know if it was because he’d simply forgotten my name or if it was his way of expressing affection—either way, I kind of liked it. It made me feel like a mysterious little enigma.
My mother, Lady Valdris, was a completely different story. Where my father had all the presence of a mountain, my mother had the quiet grace of a swan, gliding through life with elegance. With her soft, comforting hands, she gently combed through my wild curls, her face lighting up as though I were the greatest treasure she could ever imagine. “Ciro,” she murmured in her usual, melodic tone, “you’re going to meet so many important people tomorrow. Remember to smile, okay?” Her voice was soft, but her eyes flickered with something else, something subtle. There was worry in them, as if she could sense that the world outside our little bubble was far less forgiving than she’d hoped.
A sigh escaped my lips, and though I couldn’t fully understand the weight of her concern, the look on her face told me that this wasn’t just about a baby’s first birthday—it was about something much, much bigger. “Ciro,” she repeated, her fingers brushing the back of my head in the gentlest of motions. “Just smile, alright?” Her voice held that subtle pleading note, like she needed me to be the perfect child for her sanity’s sake.
Of course, I nodded, mimicking the bright-eyed innocence of a child, but inside, I was calculating everything. The whole situation felt more like a chess game than a birthday party. I needed to understand what was going on with these guests. The stakes had nothing to do with cake or presents.
I cooed and gurgled, my baby’s mind running a mile a minute through every scrap of information I’d retained from my previous life. This event was critical. This wasn’t just a birthday party. No, tomorrow would be a political display, a way for my parents to strengthen their alliances and ensure our position in the volatile world of nobility. There was no way I could forget that.
The rest of the day passed in a whirlwind. The dining hall, usually a place of quiet meals, had been transformed into a grand banquet hall. Golden chandeliers that would have made most common folk faint with envy gleamed from above, polished to a mirror shine. The tables were adorned with intricate centerpieces of flowers—exotic ones, imported at great expense—and gemstones so fine they sparkled like stars. Each decorative piece was carefully chosen to demonstrate the Valdris family's wealth and status. It was a spectacle that could only be rivaled by the grandest of palaces.
As the evening descended and twilight settled in, my parents sat with me in the nursery. Mother hummed a lullaby, soft as a breeze, and Father watched me with a scrutinizing look in his sharp green eyes. It was moments like this that made me wonder just how much my parents actually understood me, or if they saw me as some sort of prized heir in a gilded cage.
“You’ll see tomorrow, Ciro,” Father said, his voice unexpectedly tender. “The world is a harsh place, but with the right allies, we can secure your future.”
I gave the most enthusiastic baby nod I could manage, pretending to be lost in the lullaby my mother sang. On the inside, however, I was already thinking several steps ahead. Tomorrow wouldn’t just be about looking cute in front of guests—it was about laying the foundation for my future. A future I had already planned meticulously in my head.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
As I sat in my ornate high chair, feeling like an overdecorated doll surrounded by expensive fabric and glittering jewels, I studied each guest with a careful eye. They all had a purpose here. None of them were just here to celebrate a baby’s first birthday.
The first to arrive is Lady Anessa of House Sylvaris, a woman so beautiful it feels like she stepped out of a tragic romance novel. Her long silver hair cascades down her back, her emerald eyes scanning the room like she’s already three steps ahead of everyone. Anessa’s lands are known for their alchemical innovations, and in the game, she was both an invaluable ally and a complete nightmare. Sure, she could brew potions that saved your life, but she also had a nasty habit of poisoning people who crossed her.
I vividly remember her in one of my playthroughs, delivering a monologue about loyalty right before backstabbing my character. Fun times.
As she kneels to greet me—yes, kneels; apparently, I’m a big deal—I resist the urge to flinch. She smiles, cooing over me like I’m the cutest thing she’s ever seen. Inside, I’m screaming, Please don’t poison me.
Next up is Count Drennir of House Morvell, whose lands are famous for their mercenaries. Drennir is a hulking man with a booming voice and a beard so thick it looks like he’s hiding a second face under there. His personality is as subtle as a battering ram, and in the game, he was either your most loyal companion or the first to betray you if you didn’t pay him enough. Watching him in real life, laughing loudly as he guzzles wine, I wonder how this guy ever managed to lead armies without tripping over his own ego.
Then there’s the Duchess Elliora, a woman who might as well have “chaos” tattooed on her forehead. She’s from a neighboring kingdom that thrives on espionage, and her presence here feels like a loaded gun sitting on the dinner table. In the game, she could unlock insane diplomatic perks if you played your cards right, but she also had a penchant for stirring the pot just to watch people squirm. Watching her now, with her sly smiles and whispered conversations, I can already tell she’s sizing up every single person in the room. Including me.
Great. Just what I need. A professional troublemaker sniffing around.
And finally, the main event: Duke Kieran of House Ferros. This guy is the definition of dangerous. He strides into the room with an aura so commanding it’s like gravity bends around him. Ferros is from a militaristic family that’s been keeping the kingdom’s borders safe for decades—or so they claim. What they’re really known for is their ruthlessness.
In the game, his house was always a wildcard. If you worked with him, you gained an army of steel-clad soldiers. If you worked against him, you were lucky to live long enough to regret it. Right now, his lands are going through a civil war because of a mysterious new disease. And by “going through,” I mean Ferros is basically herding sick people into slums and leaving them to rot. The quarantine tactic worked in the game, but it left a trail of corpses so big it turned into one of the most controversial events of the storyline.
…Ah, yes setting citizens on fire. You know, as one does when diplomacy and compassion aren't in your skill tree. Kieran radiates that "I’m a hero in my own story, but a villain in everyone else’s" energy. His entrance sucks the air out of the room, his broad shoulders squared like he’s daring gravity to try him. And his eyes—sharp, grey, and cold—sweep over the hall before locking onto me.
Now, I’m a baby. My head is proportionally large. My legs are still more pudge than limb. But the way this man looks at me? You’d think I was the final boss of his personal crusade. Kieran doesn’t kneel. Of course not. Instead, he gives a curt nod, his mouth twitching into a faint smirk.
"Is this the Valdris heir?" he rumbles, voice deep enough to resonate with my baby bones. "I’m glad to meet you."
I want to reply with something clever. Maybe a witty one-liner about his choice of cologne (which smells like despair and crushed roaches.) Instead, I do the most baby thing possible: I drool. Just a little. A strategic amount, you see, to really sell the "innocent baby" act.
Kieran’s smirk twitches, almost like he’s amused, and he turns to my father. "Your boy has sharp eyes, Count. Watchful. Don't let a child with such potential due under your care."
Oh, cool. That wasn't ominous or creepy to say about someone's one year old .
The night wears on, and the room becomes a tangled web of conversations, alliances, and subtle threats masquerading as compliments. My parents are in their element, schmoozing like their lives depend on it—which, let’s be real, they probably do. I, meanwhile, am stuck in the world’s fanciest high chair, chewing on a silver spoon and plotting my survival like the baby mastermind I am.
Clara, the overzealous maid, hovers nearby, occasionally darting in to wipe my face or adjust my clothes. She’s like an NPC whose sole purpose is to ensure I don’t spontaneously combust from being too adorable.
"You’re doing great, young master," she whispers, her eyes wide with pride. "The guests are smitten with you!"
Oh, Clara. Sweet, oblivious Clara. If only you knew that half these people are mentally calculating how best to exploit or assassinate me.
As the evening dwindles into the wee hours, I finally get some downtime in the nursery. My mother tucks me into my ridiculously ornate crib, the kind that could probably pay off a small kingdom’s debt. She leans down, her fingers brushing my cheek. There’s something soft and vulnerable in her expression, a crack in the perfect noble mask.
"Ciro," she murmurs, "you don’t have to be perfect. Just be... you."
Whoa. Hold up. That’s way too heartfelt for this house of political snakes. Is she allowed to say stuff like that? Doesn’t she know I’m juggling reincarnation trauma, assassination attempts, and a system activation that could make or break my existence? I almost feel guilty. Almost.
Instead, I coo at her and wave a pudgy hand, because that’s what babies do. She smiles, kisses my forehead, and glides out of the room.
The moment the door clicks shut, my real work begins.
I sit up in my crib, eyes narrowed, mind whirring. The system activates at midnight. I’ve been waiting for this moment since the day I first opened my baby eyes in this world. No more helpless flailing.
My plan is simple. Step one: assess the system. Step two: exploit the hell out of it. Step three: survive long enough to rewrite my fate. Easy, right?
The only problem? I have absolutely no idea what kind of system I’m about to get. For all I know, it could be "Pacifist Baby Simulator 3000." But if it’s anything like the game I remember, I’ll have stats, skills, and perks to unlock. And if there’s one thing I’ve always been good at, it’s breaking systems. Min-maxing is my middle name.
The next morning arrives like a slap to the face. Literally. Clara wakes me up with her overly enthusiastic "Good morning, young master!" and I flail awake, nearly punching her in the nose.
As the maid fusses over me, dressing me in layers of fabric that probably weigh more than I do, I feel it. A tingling sensation in the back of my mind, like a door creaking open. And then it hits. Every goes black.
> Welcome to the System.
Initiating…
Assigning initial stats…
Calculating potential…
Oh, baby. It’s happening.
---
When the system interface finally materializes in my mind, it’s... underwhelming. No flashy graphics or dramatic fanfare. Just a plain, boring menu floating in the void.
> Name: Ciro Valdris III
Age: 1
Class: None
Level: 0
Stats:
Strength: 1
Dexterity: 2
Intelligence: 5
Charisma: 3
Luck: 0
----
System points(sp): 0
System quests: pending....
System store:
Low gacha roll-(15 sp)
---
Mana and Soul Cores:
Mana Core Progress: 0%
Mana Pool: N/A
Mana Regeneration: N/A
Soul Core Progress: 53%
Soul Pool: N/A
Soul Regeneration: N/A
---
Perks: N/A
Skills:
1. Basic Movement
Level: 1
Description: Ciro is just beginning to walk, but his skill in basic movement allows him to make precise steps and avoid falling frequently.
2. Critical Observation
Level: 1
Description: Ciro can keenly observe the behavior of those around him, noting key social dynamics and hidden details.
---
Achievements:
1. Awakening of the System
Bonus: Unlocks the System interface and basic functionality.
Description: The awakening of the System marks the first step toward true power for a player.
Well, these stats are humbling to say the least, I have a Luck. Of. Zero. I'd like to say I didn't expect that. But it fits my whole life pretty well.
But then, just as I’m about to spiral into despair, a new message pops up.
> Unique perk Detected:
Gamer's Insight – Your knowledge of a beating the game of Kingdom Of Ash grants you bonus experience 50% and adaptive learning.