Chapter 2 –
Darkness.
That was all Boris saw. Cold, endless, suffocating.
His thoughts were sluggish, like they were swimming through tar.
"W-Where... where am I?" he muttered, his voice echoing into the void.
He looked down at himself—if you could even call it a "self." His body was gone. All that remained was a flickering wisp of light, floating aimlessly in the abyss.
"What the hell is this..."
DING!
A crisp chime echoed through the void.
[System Activated.]
A glowing message box appeared in front of him.
"What?"
[Awakening process initiated.]
A strange warmth stirred deep within him—foreign, ancient, powerful. It expanded, filling him until he could feel it, sense it, locate it.
It was inside his soul.
And then—
[Awakening complete.]
[Congratulations, Host. You have awakened your personal system.]
Boris blinked—or he would have, if he had eyes.
A beat of silence.
[You are dead.]
[Emergency measures engaged.]
[You are being reborn in another world.]
[Brace yourself, Host.]
"Wait—wait, what the hell is going on?!"
But there was no time for answers.
FSHHHHH—!!!
He was yanked forward by an invisible force—ripped through dimensions at blinding speed.
⸻
Elsewhere—In Another World
A battlefield.
Endless and gruesome. The earth was hidden beneath layers of mangled bodies—both human and beast. The stench of death and metal choked the air.
Blood painted everything.
Red. Black. Green.
Blood of humans. Blood of monsters.
It was chaos incarnate.
At the center of it all stood a giant of a man. Towering. Sculpted like a war god. His long black hair whipped in the wind, and his crimson eyes glowed like burning embers. He wore black armor trimmed in blood-red, its chest emblazoned with a crest:
Two crossed swords. A pool of blood beneath them.
The mark of the Warborns.
This was Garros Warborn, Head of the Warborn Family—living legend, walking calamity.
Before him stood an army of abominations—snakes the size of carriages, wolves with armor-plated fur, goblins foaming at the mouth, ogres, trolls, giant spiders...
And beyond them, sitting on a throne of bones, lounged a slender, pale creature. Humanoid in shape, monstrous in aura. Long white hair. Bone-white eyes. Translucent tail coiling lazily behind him.
Oren.
The Beast Lord.
Garros stepped forward, the ground shaking beneath his feet.
"A coward as always," he growled. His voice made the air itself tremble.
Oren grinned, showing rows of razor-sharp teeth. "Come now, Garros. You know how I fight. Why so dramatic? It's not our first dance."
"True," Garros said. "But it will be our last."
He raised his hand.
Oren's grin faded slightly.
"...Are you sure about that?" the Beast Lord said quietly.
He gestured behind Garros.
There, kneeling on the blood-soaked ground, was a woman. Crimson hair. Midnight-black eyes. No wounds, no blood on her—but she was clearly in agony.
She was giving birth.
In the middle of a goddamn warzone.
Oren's smile returned. "Your wife... Sarena, isn't it? And she's pregnant, giving birth here, of all places? You're insane, Garros."
He leaned forward. "Step back now, or I'll throw every last one of my beasts—and myself—at her. I'll crush her. The child, too. Right as it enters this cursed world."
He spread his arms. "So, choose. Victory... or your family."
Silence fell over the battlefield.
Weapons were raised. Claws unsheathed. Every creature on edge.
And then—
"HAHAHAHAHAHA!!"
A wild laugh rang out.
Not from Garros.
From Sarena.
The woman on her knees, in labor, laughing.
"Kill me?" she spat. "Kill my child? Make us lose?"
Her eyes blazed. "We are the Warborns. We don't lose. We don't bow. We don't break."
Garros smiled, wide and savage.
"You hear that, Oren?"
He lifted his hand high to the sky.
"We are the Warborns."
"We. Do. Not. Lose."
His voice became a roar—divine and unrelenting.
"AERON—COME!!"
BOOOOOOM!!!
The sky split apart.
CRACK!
SHATTER!
A titanic greatsword plummeted from the heavens like a meteor, crashing into the center of the beast horde. The impact warped space, sent shockwaves in all directions. Beasts were pulverized. Screams were swallowed by the storm.
It was the Worldbreaker Blade—Aeron.
Garros's weapon.
In a blink, the sword vanished from the crater and appeared in Garros's hand.
Aeron's voice rumbled inside his head—ancient, familiar, impatient.
'About damn time, Garros. She's giving birth right now, you idiot.'
Garros chuckled.
'She's fine. Look at her. Still smiling while bringing my child into this world. The best woman alive.'
'You're both insane.'
Garros threw back his head and laughed.
Then he pointed Aeron at Oren, whose expression was now grim.
"Let's fight to our hea—"
WAAAH—!!
A cry pierced the battlefield. Thin. Fragile. But powerful.
The cry of a newborn child.
Everyone turned.
Sarena was cradling a baby boy.
Dark hair. Crimson eyes.
A child born in war and blood.
Garros's grin widened.
"No... let's not fight."
"Let me end this."
He raised his voice.
"MY MEN!"
"YES, COMMANDER!!"
"TODAY—MY SECOND SON IS BORN!
HE ENTERED THIS WORLD SURROUNDED BY BLOOD—IN THE FACE OF A BEAST LORD!"
A pause.
"LET THIS BATTLEFIELD BEAR WITNESS. A WARBON IS BORN TODAY—AND BLOOD WILL MARK HIS ARRIVALl!"
"YESSSSSS!! BLOOD! BLOOD! WAR! BLOOD! BLOOD! WAR!!"
The human soldiers went berserk, surging forward with roars of vengeance and pride.
The beasts hesitated.
Oren cursed, voice trembling. "You fucking lunatics..."
Garros raised Aeron, eyes burning with madness.
SWING—!!
BOOM!!
Space shattered.
The humans charged.
And amid the chaos—
'...What the hell...?'
Boris was in the blood-soaked hands, dazed and breathless. He was the newborn child.
He had really reincarnated.
His pulse thundered in his ears.
Sarena looked over him and smiled gently.
"Welcome, my child."
"Welcome, Kaden."
"My son—born in war and blood."
—End of Chapter 2—