There was once a legend of the Heretical Dark Mage named Uzziah. He single-handily brought regal kingdoms to their knees, vanquished undefeated warlords, hunted legendary creatures, all of this simply for the sake of achiving unmatched power… and gaining immortality.
Striking terror across all living beings, Uzziah's name has always been spoken in whispers as he indeed possessed the ability to subjugate the entire world at his pleasure.
But here lies his true story.
Born and raised in a family of dark believers, Uzziah was one of the children in the noble clan of Iostred, notorious for its dark reputation as a clan of cultists. Every child born in Iostred was nurtured with blades, curses, and cruel ambition. Uzziah was raised where death was a constant companion.
Every day was hellish for Uzziah, yet he endured. After all, he was the Cult Leader's son — forged in suffering, tempered by cruelty, and molded to bear a legacy of power. No torment, no trial, could break him.
Year by year, Uzziah's magical prowess grew, feeding on the pain and suffering around him. By the time the Cult Leader died, Uzziah ascended the throne effortlessly. None dared oppose him. His magic blanketed the continent in dread, his name alone silencing entire armies, striking fear into the hearts of even the bravest.
Then, one day, Uzziah stumble on a strange child living on the slums.
Child: "Are you powerful?"
Uzziah: "Yes."
Something about the child intrigued Uzziah. Their lives were worlds apart, yet he was drawn to that pure curiosity. It reminded him of something lost — the simplicity of wonder, untouched by the thirst for power.
Child: "Are you a god?"
Uzziah: "…No."
Child: "Then you're not powerful!"
Uzziah: "…"
Along dusty paths and beneath old trees, Uzziah recited the mythos of his clan – gods both mystical and dark. His usual commanding tone softened when he came to his child, who was looking up with a mixture of eyeful astonishment. Each charmed word whispered to him began to open up the depths of a strange realm brimming with mystery, power, and enticing danger.
But, as all stories go… the child died.
"Do you believe in God?"
Uzziah never forgot those last words. He had seen countless deaths, but this one haunted him. For the first time, he questioned the nature of mortality.
If even the innocent were destined to die... then perhaps only gods were truly free.
And so, Uzziah made it his mission:
"Conquer the universe! I shall reign over all beings in darkness!"
But with those final words… he died.
The End.
"Peace reigned afterwa—"
"What?! That's it?! He just DIED?!" yelled a child, clearly unimpressed.
An old man chuckled softly. "Child, a legend is just a story passed down through the ages. It holds a lesson. Uzziah's tale teaches us to be content as mortals. To not be blinded by greed."
"But Kazzer's right!" another kid chimed in. "How could such a powerful mage die like that?!"
"That's just how life—"
"Boooring!" Kazzer yawned. "Let's go to the riverside elder. His stories are better!"
"Yeah!!" the other kids cheered, running off in a noisy herd.
The old man sighed as he watched them disappear. He turned to the bright sun and murmured, "A peaceful era must never forget the past."
One child lingered. A girl.
"He shouldn't have died," she whispered, turning back.
"Hmm?" the old man tilted his head. "What makes you say that, Terrece?"
"I-I don't know..." she mumbled, then chased after the others.
The old man smiled faintly at her retreating figure.
"To think... the child of the slum from that legend would be reincarnated as a lively village girl."
'Uzziah... a devil like him should never be born again,' the old man thought.
'Or chaos will follow.'
Earth, Year 23XX
In a brightly lit room, a toddler slept peacefully. Light filtered through the curtains and landed on his small face.
"LUX!"
A loud yet cheerful voice echoed.
The sleeping boy flinched. What insolence! How could anyone enter his Hex Tower uninvited?! Not even Elder Hugen dared approach him uninvited before.
"Who—ACK?!" Lux choked out, caught off guard by something unexpected.
Before he could finish his thought, he was lifted high into the air.
An attractive man in his mid-20s grinned as he held him up.
"Time to wake up, little buddy! It's your first day at daycare!"
The toddler blinked, disoriented. He look at the man holding him that had red hair and blue eyes. His physical body surpasses an average man, he has chiseled nose and perfect deep eyes. The red-hair man smiled charmingly, grinning his lips ear to ear.
Uzziah gazes at himself in the mirror that was next to the man.
Red hair. Big yellow eyes. Soft skin. Round face.
He was a child.
More than that… a cute one in a tiger pajama.
'During my ascension to the 12th Circle…' he remembered the moment vividly. 'That crystal wasn't just a vessel, it was a trap. A cursed blade. I was careless… and now…'
He raised his soft, chubby hands.
Retribution! This must be karma for my sins!
"Hmm? What's wrong, Lux?" the man asked gently.
"It's… nothing," Uzziah, now Lux, replied with a weary sigh.
This was his new father, Arion Bennett. 21 years old, born in 21XX, a reliable man with a decent income, doing housework like a loving husband. Arion had named him Lux.
"Alright then! Let's wash you up!"
Arion carried Lux to the bathroom and bathed him with stunning efficiency.
Even Lux was impressed. He's faster than the maids from my past life!
"Hop! Little Lux is now ready!"
Dressed in a yellow jumpsuit and a cute hat, Lux saw himself again. A beautiful child.
Ugh. Cursed adorableness.
"Too handsome! My son is too handsome!" Arion gushed.
"Let's go. Mother is waiting," Lux grumbled, his tone laced with impatience.
"Of course, little champ! You must be hungry."
Arion carried Lux downstairs. The house was sleek, futuristic, and minimalistic. This world was vastly more advanced than his old one. No magic… but something else — Science.
It fascinated Lux. He constantly requested books. But one realization saddened him:
There is no mana in this world.
Becoming a 12th Circle Mage, or a god, was now impossible.
Was this fate… or merely a second chance?
The scent of waffles snapped him back to reality.
"You're here, eat quickly~!" came a sweet voice.
It was a silver haired woman withe yellow eyes. This is Charlotte Bennett, Lux's mother. Gentle and graceful, with fairy-like features. She handed Lux to a baby chair.
"Here you go, sweetie."
Lux stared at the golden waffle, its surface glistening with syrup and topped with fresh bananas.
Grumble…
He pierced the waffle with his fork, ready to take a bite.
But just before he could, he paused.
Five years have passed in this new life. I've lived peacefully. Too peacefully.
His past had been filled with suffering and ambition, a constant drive to conquer. But now… this ordinary life, this love, this calm…
Made him dull.