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*Clap-clap!*

Some hours pass by, and the atmosphere right now is quite pleasant. Though the sound of some machinery outside this place scratches my curiosity, as they are almost like big balloons or blimps for that matter.

Both of them have sung some songs for me which are in Mother's hands, riddled with instruments coming from their electronic devices, similar to that of smartphones.

I am glad I get to be around an advanced civilization, as I can confirm that there is some network that they both surfs when tired of playing with me if you can call it that when I'm not giving surprised reaction all the time.

It seems that I've reincarnated far into the near future, not fully sci-fi as I don't see starships or any space-faring transportation.`Just who was I before this awakening, what could be the reason and why?`

Mother Fiona. She is all tucked up in a white cloth that is easy for her to move around, as she is still recovering from the process of birthing me. `Even I find it discouraging, knowing it's not a pure soul that'll be your child`

Mother Fiona, unlike Father Garvin, is not of the Wolvenfolk, as evidenced by the lack of canine ears but rather is a Sirenkin, which is signified by their oozing warmth that'd be felt to some degree.

I guess that she's either of the bewitching sea creatures or the opposite of harpies... No, neither is the case. This world's definition of Sirens is Half-spirits, Half-human. And this world's spirits are out there, observing the world for God knows why. `… So that means, even in bed?… Ugh~!`

Fiona / Garvin: "If you know what to do, then come here and say Mama! / Papa!". And they're now competing against each other, for the sake of being the 'first' parent ʼ⁴.

*Ker-clack*. The door swings wide, with the two watchers bringing with them a wheelchair for Mother who is still unable to walk normally, as expected from one who just gave birth.

Bernard: "Any odd symptoms to either of you?"

Fiona: "Aha, NO. Arlan is a good and healthy child. He won't hurt us in any way, won't you?". I nod as she looks at me, and seems to be pleased with my reaction.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Bernard: "Delivery's here, you two have it easy with him, it'll… be some time before you get to be down from the hospital. G'night, then". He waves his hand as he let the door as is.

Father stands up and prepares the wheelchair, which oddly enough is a standard of the 2020s, and helps Mother sit on it.

Garvin: "So, shall we?"

Fiona: "Let's, us three"

*Creak*

As we roll around this hospital(?), the mood of the place we're venturing changes time by time.

Dim lights on the ceilings near us turn brighter as we get closer, and dim just as they did after we get farther from them.

There are some people in here both who're in their casual threads while looking at their phones and those armed to the teeth swaying their fingers to some invisible device, and those who noticed us (me, obviously) irks a response one way or another. Let it be disgust, fear, pity, and all else.

And naturally, with that, they get to talk behind our backs, whatever the topic (me, absolutely) may be.

I notice the air's getting colder, yet it's fresh in the eyes and the smell lifts me in the heart who's nauseated by the A/Cs (air conditioner), futuristic or not.

We're now approaching a door with a holographic sign 'EXIT' written on top of it.

*Whoosh*

I shut my eye in response to some dust almost getting to my face, before witnessing what I would call One of the World's Wonder.

The spectacle of the night sky above the clouds is something I never experienced in my previous life, maybe. This whole place is flying above a city that is magnanimous and bustling with lives, even the air is busy with many airships displaying the image of a slashed crown, before showing advertisements that I remember back in my days.

Father Garvin clears his throat, taking in a deep breath.

Garvin: "This world, kid... it's not going to be eager to welcome you in its doorsteps. They may talk badly about you, they may throw rocks at you, they won't hesitate to cut you down when you're old enough". Turns out that he's trying to bring the reality of this world to me, with the harsh truth. "So, before we set you out, you may choose who you want to practice the combat arts of this world with: Me, or Her"

I'm a bit confused about what he means by that at first, even turning to Mother Fiona because of how bullshit from him is coming out.

Fiona:"•*chuckle* It means that we want you to have a cert as in the degree of protecting yourself with either Father, Physical Martial Arts, or Me, Magicraft"

Supposedly, since I can feel the magical aura around me to some level, think it might be better to choose along the route of Swordsmanship and refine some of the previous moves I've set as my foundation for the others to come.

Me: "Auah!". Touching the hand of Father Garvin, I signal to him out that I may want to go walk down the hard path soon with brunts.

He sneers with his side fang sparkling white and rubs me just the right way for reward.

Garvin: "It's seldom for my babies to pick me first times, they always go wild for them. I Win again, Fi!"

Fiona: "Okay, okay, I get it, I get it. Now, say the last word to him before going back inside". She passes me to Father Garvin, with her warm feelings now getting colder.

Garvin: "Ahem! Well then, Arlan, one more thing...". He looks overjoyed from being chosen first over Mother, making the speech halted because of his victory.

With the wind's picking up, all there is the final introduction.

Fiona / Garvin:"(unison) Welcome our dearest, to the world of Altaris!". With them acknowledging me, I can only prepare myself ahead of whatever fate have for me.

This will go on for weeks and weeks where I get to ponder when I can interact with babies my age, just for the sake of blending in. But it seems that they know I am not what I seem to like, and decides to have me taught things that a newborn shouldn't be able to learn about. 'Seems I gotta start over again, from scratch'

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ʼ⁴ refers to the moment of truth when a child gets to say their first word after months of practicing talking, especially if it's the pen name of either of their parents.

(#) Loggers Note 1: Wonder when I can get experience this myself?

(#) Loggers Note 2: There's a lot… Let's just say I have to be both the luckiest and unluckiest one alive at the time of journaling this.

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