Eiden sat quietly on the long, velvet‑white castle couch, its cushions soft enough to swallow his tiny frame. The library around him was silent, warm, and impossibly vast, a sanctuary of towering shelves, polished marble floors, and lanterns glowing with gentle, floating mana.
Dozens of books drifted around him in a slow, steady orbit.
Pages turned themselves.
Covers opened at his slightest thought.
He didn't look like a baby.
He looked like an ancient king trapped in a newborn shell.
Eiden rested his elbow on the arm of the couch, supporting his head with a small hand as he read through a thick grimoire hovering in front of him. His grey eyes scanned each page with the calm precision of someone who had lived through civilizations rising and falling.
The castle was quiet.
The dragons were quiet.
Even the mana in the air seemed to hold its breath around him.
He closed the book gently, letting it drift away to join the others.
"So this is where my new beginning starts…"
But unlike his past life, he did not crave a battle to the death.
He craved power.
Not for destruction.
Not for revenge.
But because he had seen what true power looked like, and he wanted more.
He wanted the Grimoire of Divinark.
A book so ancient that even the gods whispered about it.
A book that granted its wielder the ability to turn thought into reality.
If you imagined a flame, it would ignite.
If you imagined a mountain, it would rise.
If you imagined a world, it would form.
If you imagined a death, it would happen.
If you imagined a future, it would unfold exactly as you pictured it.
Creation.
Prediction.
Transformation.
Manipulation.
Everything, even the impossible.
The Grimoire of Divinark was the closest thing to true omnipotence the world had ever known.
And Eiden wanted it.
Not someday.
Not eventually.
Now.
He slid off the couch, landing softly on the polished floor. His cloak tightened around him, adjusting to his movement. His tiny feet padded across the marble as he walked deeper into the library.
He needed information.
He needed clues.
He needed to know where the Grimoire had last been seen.
But first… he wanted to understand the castle he was now living in.
He stepped out of the library and into the long hallway, the air warm and faintly scented with incense. The walls were lined with portraits, dragons in humanoid form, nobles, warriors, scholars. Some paintings were so old the colors had faded into ghostly silhouettes.
Eiden walked slowly, observing everything.
He passed a pair of butlers polishing silver trays.
They bowed instantly, eyes wide, sensing the overwhelming mana radiating from his tiny body.
He ignored them.
He passed a group of servants carrying baskets of fruit and bread.
They whispered among themselves, unsure whether to fear him or worship him.
He ignored them too.
He walked into the kitchen next, a massive room filled with heat, steam, and the smell of roasted meat. Dozens of black‑dragon workers in humanoid form moved with practiced precision, chopping vegetables, stirring cauldrons, baking bread, preparing meals for the entire castle.
The moment Eiden stepped inside, the entire kitchen froze.
Knives stopped mid‑slice.
Spoons hovered above pots.
A loaf of bread fell from someone's hands and hit the floor with a soft thud.
Every eye turned to him.
Every breath stopped.
Eiden looked around calmly, studying the room, the workers, the layout, the mana signatures of each person. He wasn't here for food. He didn't need it. He was here to understand the structure of the castle, the flow of people, the hidden doors, the secret passages.
He walked past the workers, who parted like water around him.
He inspected the ovens.
The storage rooms.
The enchanted iceboxes.
The mana‑powered stoves.
The ventilation shafts.
The hidden trapdoor beneath a rug that led to the underground tunnels.
He memorized everything.
Then he left the kitchen without a word.
He continued exploring, the dining hall, the armory, the training grounds, the guest rooms, the servant quarters, the treasury. Every room he entered fell silent. Every person he passed bowed instinctively.
He wasn't trying to intimidate them.
He simply existed.
And that was enough.
Eventually, he returned to the main hall, a massive chamber with high ceilings, chandeliers of floating crystals, and a polished floor that reflected his tiny silhouette.
He stood there for a moment, thinking.
The Grimoire of Divinark.
Where was it?
Who last held it?
What protections surrounded it?
He needed answers.
He needed strength.
He needed his old body.
But above all…
He needed Divinark.
He turned toward the library again, cloak fluttering behind him like a shadow.
"This time," he whispered to himself, "I won't just be the First Divinity."
His eyes glowed faintly.
"I'll surpass even the gods."
Over the next several days, Eiden remained in the library, consuming knowledge at a pace no mortal could comprehend. Morning bled into afternoon, afternoon into night, and night into dawn. Books floated to him, opened themselves, and closed themselves as he finished them.
By the fourth day, he closed the final grimoire in the castle's library.
He had read every single one.
And now… he was bored.
He drummed his tiny finger against the arm of the couch, cloak wrapped around him like a shadow.
"What to do… what to do…" he muttered.
He hopped off the couch, landing softly on the polished floor, and walked out of the library. His small feet padded down the long hallway until he stopped in front of a large wooden door.
He pushed it open.
Inside, Bengie sat behind a heavy desk, surrounded by stacks of papers, trade agreements, noble requests, political reports, and letters sealed with wax crests. He looked up the moment Eiden entered.
"Do you need something?" Bengie asked, setting his paper aside.
"Yes," Eiden replied. "I need you to take me to the Redcrest Clan."
Bengie raised an eyebrow.
"Now?"
"Not right now," Eiden said. "But soon. I can't wait any longer."
Bengie tapped his finger on the desk, thinking.
"I don't have clearance to get past the borders of Linn," he said. "You need immense authority, a kingdom, an army, or direct permission from the Council of Mages. Otherwise, you're not getting through."
Eiden cracked the knuckles of his tiny right hand with his index finger.
"But nineteen years ago, anyone could pass through those borders. What changed?"
Bengie sighed.
"The world's #1 strongest mage died. That's what happened."
Eiden's eyes narrowed.
Bengie continued.
"Without the strongest mage alive, the one who could kill armies with a single spell, every king, even rival kingdoms, panicked. They held a meeting with the Supreme Leader of the Council of Mages. They agreed to erect a massive stone border protected by a barrier."
He leaned back in his chair.
"Now, there's only one gate that allows passage. And the Council placed a spell preventing any mage or creature from flying within twenty miles of the border. Teleportation is blocked too. No one gets through without clearance."
"So it's impossible to pass except through the gate," Eiden said. "Understood."
Bengie nodded.
"But… I know someone who can grant us clearance."
Eiden tilted his head.
"Oh?"
"King Nipolla," Bengie said.
"Who?" Eiden asked with a raised eyebrow.
"One of the 5 Powerful Kings. His title is known everywhere. He can grant us passage." Bengie replied.
Bengie turned his head toward the window.
Outside, on a steep hill overlooking the entire kingdom, stood a colossal castle, larger than any other structure in Nipolla. Its towers pierced the sky, and its walls shimmered faintly with protective enchantments.
"That," Bengie said quietly, "is where he resides."
Eiden looked in the same direction Bengie was facing, toward the colossal castle on the distant hill, its towers piercing the sky like spears of stone and mana.
"I want you to take me to him tomorrow morning," Eiden said, voice calm but absolute. "I do not care whether or not his guards try to stop us. I need his clearance."
Bengie nodded once, understanding the urgency behind the words.
"I understand. Tomorrow morning, I'll have a carriage ready at 0600 hours."
Eiden gave a small nod, turned, and walked out of the room.
As he walked down the long hallway, he turned a corner, and a servant carrying a tray of food and drinks collided with him.
The servant gasped, the tray slipping from his hands.
Cups spun through the air.
Liquids splashed upward.
Plates flipped.
Food scattered.
The servant fell onto his back, eyes squeezed shut in terror.
What if I hurt Master Eiden? What if I spilled something on him? What if-
But he heard no crash.
No splatter.
No shattering glass.
Silence.
He slowly opened his eyes.
Everything, the tray, the cups, the food, the drinks, was floating in the air, suspended perfectly still.
Eiden stood there, tiny hands at his sides, expression calm and unbothered. His mind alone held everything in place.
With a thought, the liquids flowed back into their cups.
The food returned neatly to the plates.
The tray reassembled itself in midair.
Then it drifted gently to a small table beside the wall and settled without a sound.
The servant stared, stunned.
Eiden stepped closer.
"Are you alright?" he asked, voice soft but steady.
The servant scrambled to his feet, hands shaking.
"Y‑yes… thank you, Master Eiden."
Eiden nodded once and continued walking down the hall.
He entered the library again, the doors closing behind him. He climbed onto the couch and sat cross‑legged, cloak pooling around him like a shadow.
He rested his elbow on his knee, tapping his chin with a tiny finger.
"I must get the Grimoire of Divinark… my Infinite Grimoire… and my body," he thought. "But without my Infinite Grimoire or my original body, I can only cast limited spells. Two hundred at most."
His eyes narrowed.
Two hundred spells was nothing.
A fraction of what he once commanded.
A fraction of what he needed.
He leaned back into the couch, staring at the ceiling.
Tomorrow, he would meet the king.
Tomorrow, he would begin the path toward the Redcrest Clan.
Tomorrow, he would take the first step toward reclaiming everything he lost.
And after that…
Divinark.
The book that could reshape reality.
The book that could elevate him beyond gods.
He closed his eyes, letting the silence of the library settle around him.
Tomorrow would be the beginning of something far greater...
The next morning, Eiden awoke to the soft glow of lantern‑light drifting across the library ceiling. Bengie stood in front of him, dressed in his immaculate white suit and polished shoes, looking every bit the noble dragon he was.
"Come on," Bengie said. "The carriage is waiting outside."
He turned and walked around the couch, exiting the library.
Eiden sat up slowly.
With a snap of his fingers, his cloak shimmered, threads of mana weaving themselves into a pristine white suit that fit his tiny frame perfectly. His skin smelled fresh, clean, as if he had just stepped out of a warm bath.
He hopped off the couch and made his way through the castle halls.
By the time he reached the front entrance, the morning sun was rising over the kingdom. Eiden walked down the long stone steps on his tiny feet, each step echoing softly.
Bengie stood near the gate, beside a sleek black carriage trimmed with silver. The driver, a woman with elegant grey hair tied neatly behind her head, bowed and opened the door.
Eiden and Bengie stepped inside.
The door shut behind them with a soft thud.
Moments later, the carriage began to move, wheels rolling over the brick path. The ride was long and quiet, filled with the distant sounds of the kingdom waking up.
Horse hooves clattering.
Merchants shouting deals.
Nobles gossiping.
Guards laughing as they patrolled the streets.
Eiden stared out the window, watching the world pass by.
He felt nothing.
No excitement.
No fear.
Only purpose.
After nearly twenty minutes, the carriage slowed… then stopped.
A stern voice barked from outside.
"And who are you? Only those with scheduled meetings may enter the castle."
The driver responded calmly.
"Master Bengie requests an audience with the king. It is urgent."
"Too bad," the guard snapped. "The king said he wants NO ONE, and I mean anyone, inside the castle today. Move along, or I'll force you."
Metal clattered.
Weapons shifted.
Eiden didn't wait.
The carriage door flew open, ripped from its latch by invisible force.
Eiden floated out, landing softly on his feet.
He walked toward the guard with an expression so calm it was unsettling.
"I must speak with the king," Eiden said. "Move. I do not have time to waste."
The guards stared at him, stunned.
A baby… walking? Speaking? Using magic? With the voice of a grown man?
Before they could react-
"Let them in."
A deep voice echoed across the courtyard.
King Nipolla approached, his brown hair flowing as he walked, his brown eyes reflecting brightly from the sunlight, his clad in gold and silver armor, and his sheathed blade clinking against his hip. His presence alone made the guards straighten instantly.
"I've been waiting for both of them," the king said.
Bengie stepped out of the carriage and bowed his head slightly.
"Thank you, Your Majesty. I must discuss-"
"We'll talk in my office," the king interrupted. "Follow me."
Inside the King's Castle
They followed him along a wide stone path, up a flight of stairs, and through towering doors carved with ancient runes. Inside, the castle was enormous, statues of legendary mages lined the walls, paintings of past rulers hung from golden frames, and chandeliers of floating crystals illuminated the halls.
They ascended another staircase, turned down a long corridor, and entered a large room, Nipolla's office.
Nipolla stepped behind his desk and sat down.
"Have a seat."
Eiden and Bengie sat in two ornate chairs across from him.
For a moment, the king said nothing.
He tapped his finger on the desk, staring at Eiden with a mixture of disbelief and awe.
Then he exhaled shakily.
"I still can't believe you're alive, Eiden. I was a child when I heard of your death. You were the mage I admired most. I wanted to be strong, fearless, bold, like you."
He shook his head.
"I didn't want to believe you had reincarnated… but Bengie never lies."
Bengie smirked softly.
The king continued.
"From the letter Bengie sent me, I understand you want your original body back from the Redcrest Clan. And you need clearance to pass the border."
"Yes," Eiden replied.
The king opened a drawer and pulled out a golden pendant engraved with the royal crest. Then he took a small sheet of paper and wrote on it with swift, practiced strokes.
He lit a match, held it over a cup of white wax, and waited as it melted.
The room was silent except for the faint crackle of flame.
He poured the hot wax onto the back of the pendant, pressed the paper into it, and slid the pendant across the desk.
"I've written an official date and signature," the king said. "This will grant you passage through the border gate."
Bengie picked up the pendant and tucked it into his pocket.
"Thank you," Bengie said, bowing his head. "Thank you so much."
The king smiled softly.
"Of course. If you ever need anything again… I am here."
Eiden stared directly into the king's eyes, not with hostility, but with a calm, ancient certainty that made even the armored ruler straighten in his seat.
"When I get all my possessions back," Eiden said, voice steady and absolute, "I will place a barrier around this kingdom. One strong enough to protect you and your future generations from any attack. I promise you I will."
The king's stern expression softened.
A rare warmth flickered in his eyes.
"Alright," he said quietly. "I'll be waiting. And if you ever need my forces, or my help, for anything, tell me. I will not hesitate."
"Ok," Eiden simply replied.
Without another word, he reached out and snatched the pendant from Bengie's hand, hopped off the chair, and walked out of the office. His tiny footsteps echoed down the hall, down the stairs, and out the castle doors.
Bengie hurried after him.
"You move pretty fast," Bengie said, catching up. "Especially for someone in the body of a baby with tiny legs."
Eiden side‑eyed him.
"When I was first born in my original life, I could walk before three months. I could speak and learn before I was three months old. This is nothing. And before I turned two, I mastered dozens of grimoires and languages. Everyone in my clan could. We were… different. Blessed."
Bengie blinked.
He hadn't known that.
It explained a lot.