There was once a Legend of the Heretical Dark Mage named Uzziah. He conquered kingdoms, overthrew empires, slew gods, and hunted mythical beasts all in pursuit of power... and immortality.
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. Uzziah was raised where death was a constant companion. In Iostred, every child was nurtured with blades, curses, and cruel ambition.
Every day was hellish for Uzziah, yet he endured. After all, he was the Cult Leader's son.
Year by year, his magical prowess grew. 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 silenced entire armies.
Then, one day, Uzziah stumble on a strange child living on the slums.
Child: "Are you powerful?"
Uzziah: "Yes."
Child: "Are you a god?"
Uzziah: "…No."
Child: "Then you're not powerful!"
Uzziah: "…"
Something about the child intrigued Uzziah. Their lives couldn't have been more different, and yet, he found himself drawn to that pure curiosity.
They sat by dusty roads and under ancient trees, where Uzziah would speak of divine beings, forbidden spells, and the dark god worshipped by his clan. His voice, usually heavy with authority, softened when the child listened—wide-eyed and full of wonder.
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 21XX
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 Hexagon Tower uninvited?! Not even Elder Hugen dared approach him uninvited before.
"Who—ACK?!"
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 clearly. '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 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 us go. Mother is waiting," Lux grumbled.
"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 requested books constantly. 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 a second chance?
The scent of waffles snapped him back to reality.
"You're here—eat quickly~!" came a sweet voice.
It was Charlotte Bennett, his new mother. Gentle and graceful, with fairy-like features. She handed him to a baby chair.
"Here you go, sweetie."
Lux stared at the golden waffle topped with syrup and bananas.
Grumble…
He pierced it with his fork, ready to eat.
But just before the bite—he paused.
Three years have passed in this new life. I've lived peacefully. Too peacefully.
His past was filled with suffering and ambition. But now… this ordinary life, this love, this calm…
It doesn't feel so bad.