Chương 2: The Black Sheep, Again

For several minutes, Noah, if that was still his name, could do nothing but stare at the symbol beside his mana. ∞/∞ It remained there no matter how many times he blinked. Focusing on it brought up the same explanation, while looking away caused the smaller window to vanish. Everything behaved with the consistency of a real interface, which only made the situation more suspicious. Perhaps the bookshelves had done more damage than he thought.

Maybe his dying brain had gathered every reincarnation novel he had ever read, mixed them with his regrets, and created one hell of a final dream. That would explain the newborn body, the fantasy setting, and the conveniently broken ability. His imagination had apparently decided that infinite mana was fair compensation for being killed by furniture. The status screen flickered. Noah immediately focused on it. The word beside his name blurred before being replaced.

Name: Sieghart Race: Human Age: 0 Level: 1 Health: 10/10 Mana: ∞/∞ Stamina: 10/10 Strength: 1 Endurance: 1 Vitality: 1 Dexterity: 1 Magic: 1 Mentality: 12 Resistance: 1 Perception: 1 Class: None Skills: None"Sieghart?" He couldn't say the name aloud, naturally. The best he could produce was a quiet, meaningless sound that prompted his new mother to adjust the cloth around him. Still, Sieghart wasn't a bad name. It was strong. Memorable. Heroic. Far too heroic for his tastes.

Someone named Sieghart couldn't simply grow up, find a stable job, and spend his evenings avoiding unnecessary responsibilities. A Sieghart was expected to carry an enormous sword, challenge ancient dragons, and deliver speeches while standing on top of mountains. It was the sort of name people screamed during battles or engraved upon statues after the owner sacrificed himself to save a kingdom. He knew enough reincarnation stories to recognize the danger. His new parents clearly had high expectations.

They had looked at their newborn son and chosen a name that practically demanded greatness. Perhaps that was normal in this world, but Sieghart doubted anyone would name a child something so dramatic unless they expected him to become important.

"Please don't do this to me." He had already spent one life listening to people explain what he should have accomplished. He didn't want to begin the second with an impossible name hanging over his head. At the very least, another world should have allowed him to escape academic pressure and unfavorable comparisons. What was next? Would he discover that his new cousin was already studying to become an archmage? Sieghart closed the status screen and tried to rest.

Being born was surprisingly exhausting, even when someone else performed most of the work. His Stamina had already fallen to three, although he had done little more than cry and contemplate his situation. He slept several times over the following hours. His newborn body seemed capable of remaining awake only briefly before shutting down without asking permission. Each time he woke, the unfamiliar room became a little clearer. The walls were made from pale stone rather than concrete.

Heavy curtains covered a tall window, and the bed was large enough to occupy nearly a quarter of the room. Candles burned inside glass fixtures, though several small crystals embedded in the walls produced a steadier white light. That settled one question. He definitely wasn't in an ordinary hospital. There were no machines, electrical outlets, plastic containers, or exhausted nurses checking electronic records. Everything looked old-fashioned, but it was too clean and well-maintained to be primitive.

The sheets were soft, the furniture was carefully carved, and even the water basin beside the bed appeared expensive. Either his new family was wealthy, or this world placed an unusual amount of importance on decorative washbasins. A couple of hours after his birth, Sieghart finally saw both of his parents clearly. His father entered first. Sieghart had expected someone tired and worried.

Instead, he saw a man who looked as though he had left a battlefield, punched the battlefield into submission, and then come directly to visit his newborn son. The man appeared to be in his early twenties, though his build made him seem older at first glance. He was extremely muscular, with broad shoulders, thick arms, and the sort of chest that suggested he considered heavy armor an additional layer of clothing. Calling him athletic would have been an insult to people who merely exercised.

He looked like a gym rat who had been transported into a fantasy world and given unlimited access to enchanted protein. As if his build wasn't impressive enough, he wore red-and-black armor. The breastplate was dark, almost obsidian, with deep-red lines running across it like controlled flames. A heavy cloak hung from one shoulder, and a sword rested at his hip. The weapon's hilt alone looked expensive enough to pay for Sieghart's previous college tuition.

The man's short red hair matched the brighter portions of his armor. His eyes were a vivid green, and a faint scar crossed the left side of his jaw. He looked less like an ordinary father and more like the legendary knight who appeared on the cover of a fantasy novel. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

"Please don't be called Siegfried." With a son named Sieghart, it was entirely possible. His father approached the bed and spoke in the same unknown language Sieghart had heard earlier. His voice was deep but quieter than expected. He looked toward Sieghart's mother, listened to her answer, and then carefully leaned over to see him. His expression changed. It wasn't joy. It wasn't exactly disappointment either. Concern came closest, though there was something more complicated mixed into it.

Sieghart examined his mother next. She also looked as though she was in her early twenties. Long blonde hair spread across the pillows behind her, framing a beautiful face made pale by exhaustion. Her blue eyes appeared heavy after the birth, but there was nothing fragile about her. Even while resting, she looked fit. The shape of her shoulders and arms suggested regular training, while several small scars marked her hands. They weren't the hands of someone who spent her entire life protected inside a mansion.

She might have been a warrior too, though Sieghart couldn't imagine what sort of work required someone to remain in that kind of condition. Perhaps his entire family solved disagreements through combat. That would explain his father. His parents spoke while looking at him. Their language was fluid but completely unfamiliar, and Sieghart couldn't identify even a single word. Certain sounds repeated, but not enough for him to understand their meaning. The expressions were easier to read. His mother looked worried.

His father attempted to appear calm and failed. Both of them handled him carefully, as though they feared he might break. Sieghart grunted mentally. He recognized those looks. They belonged to people trying not to show that reality had failed to match their expectations. He had seen similar expressions after revealing the results of his entrance examination. Maybe his parents had expected a more impressive baby. Was he particularly small?

His Health was only ten and his Strength was one, but those numbers seemed reasonable for someone born a few hours earlier. Perhaps he looked strange. Maybe he had failed to inherit any of their better features and had emerged resembling an angry potato. That would be unfortunate. With parents like these, the genetic standards were unreasonably high. Several minutes later, the door opened again. An old man entered the room.

Sieghart immediately thought he looked as if he had stepped out of an illustrated fairy-tale book. His silver hair reached his shoulders, his robes were layered in shades of white and dark blue, and a number of golden symbols had been embroidered along his sleeves. His lined face carried the serious dignity of an elder who knew secrets no one else could comprehend. He even had a beard. It wasn't as long as Sieghart expected, but it was respectable. At last, something familiar. The old man had to be a mage.

He would raise a wooden staff, mutter mysterious words, and announce that Sieghart possessed talent unseen in ten thousand years. Then the old man stepped closer. Sieghart noticed the width of his shoulders beneath the robes. The elder was muscular too. Not merely healthy for his age. Muscular. His forearms looked thick enough to bend metal, and his chest strained against the layers of cloth whenever he moved. Even the elderly scholar of the family appeared capable of carrying Sieghart's father on one shoulder.

"What is wrong with this world?" Had they somehow learned to cultivate whey protein instead of rice and wheat? Perhaps protein was the true foundation of civilization here. Magic might simply be a side effect of consuming enough of it. The old man exchanged several words with Sieghart's parents. His father answered first. His mother tightened her hold around Sieghart, and the worry in her expression deepened. The elder nodded before approaching the bed.

"Here we go." Sieghart had read this scene before. This was the examination. The mysterious elder would check his body, identify his aptitude, and explain what sort of miraculous future awaited him. Infinite mana should qualify as miraculous unless the symbol represents an error. The old man extended one large hand and pressed two fingers against Sieghart's forehead. A strange warmth entered his body. It wasn't ordinary heat.

The sensation passed through his skin without burning it, spreading into his head, chest, arms, and legs. For an instant, Sieghart felt as though a second pulse had begun beating within him. Magic. It had to be. The foreign energy moved through every part of his tiny body, searching and measuring. When it reached the center of his chest, the infinity symbol beside his mana flashed. Sieghart waited for the old man's reaction. There would be shock. Disbelief.

Perhaps the elder would fall backward and shout something dramatic about an ancient prophecy. The old man opened his eyes. He looked at Sieghart. Then he turned toward his parents and shook his head. Disappointment settled across his face. The room became painfully quiet. Sieghart's mother closed her eyes. His father clenched one armored fist, then slowly relaxed it. They exchanged a few subdued words with the elder, but no one looked particularly happy. Sieghart stared blankly at them. That was it? No prophecy?

No declaration that the heavens had blessed his birth? The old man had examined someone with infinite mana and reacted as though he had found an expired coupon. Either the elder was terrible at his job, or whatever method he used had failed to detect the infinity inside Sieghart. The status screen still showed the symbol clearly, but perhaps external examinations measured something else. His Magic attribute was only one. Maybe that was all the old man had seen. Sieghart sighed internally. Of course.

He had been alive for only a few hours and had already disappointed another set of parents. That had to be some kind of record. Most children took years to reveal their failures, but he had managed it before learning how to control his own neck. He almost laughed. Two lives. Two families. Twice the disappointment. If his original parents could see him now, they might finally be impressed by his consistency. He would probably become the first person in two different worlds to fail a college entrance examination.

A man among men. In the worst possible way. His mother pulled him closer despite the elder's judgment. His father rested one enormous hand on her shoulder and looked down at Sieghart with an expression he still couldn't understand. The old man said something else and left. Sieghart watched the door close behind him before summoning his status screen once more.

Name: Sieghart Race: Human Age: 0 Level: 1 Health: 10/10 Mana: ∞/∞ Stamina: 3/4 Strength: 1 Endurance: 1 Vitality: 1 Dexterity: 1 Magic: 1 Mentality: 12 Resistance: 1 Perception: 1 Nothing had changed. His magical ability was supposedly unimpressive. He had no class and no spells. According to the old man, there was apparently nothing special about him. Yet the infinity symbol remained. Sieghart focused on it until the description appeared again. Mana: Infinite Your mana has no measurable limit.

If the people of this world couldn't detect it, that might actually be useful. No expectations. No pressure. No relatives comparing him to heroic cousins. He could discover how magic worked at his own pace, and by the time anyone realized the truth, it would be too late to burden him with their plans. Sieghart relaxed in his mother's arms. Being considered a disappointment wasn't new. This time, however, everyone else was wrong.