Seojin's senses were clouded, and the world around him was a blur of lights and sounds, nothing more than a vague, distant echo. His body felt strange, far too small, too weak. His arms and legs were stiff, uncoordinated. His mind, however, was sharp—far too sharp for the infant body he now inhabited. His memories flooded him, memories that should not belong to a newborn, memories of a life filled with regret, power, and a tragic death. He was not like the others. He had regressed.
He was back.
His previous life—the one filled with martial arts, victories, and ultimately, his death at the hands of a deity-level expert—was still fresh in his mind. Yet now, he was in an infant's body, stripped of everything: his martial abilities, his strength, his reputation. The very essence of what made him Seojin was still there, but it was all locked away within this fragile body. He could feel the familiar power stirring inside him, but it was buried deep beneath the surface, waiting for the day it would awaken once again.
His eyes fluttered open, the light of the world filtering through. The faces around him were unfamiliar, but the air carried a certain warmth—a family's love, a home's embrace. Seojin blinked, his vision slowly adjusting. The first face he saw was that of his older brother, Han Jiwon.
Jiwon's face was filled with a look of pure innocence, and his large hands cradled Seojin carefully, supporting the small, fragile body. To Jiwon, Seojin was nothing more than a newborn—helpless, weak, and in need of protection. There was no recognition in his eyes. He simply saw his brother, the youngest child in their family.
"Seojin," Jiwon cooed softly, his voice filled with an affection that only a sibling could possess. His words were simple, innocent, and full of warmth. He had no knowledge of the power his brother once wielded, nor the future greatness Seojin was destined to achieve. To Jiwon, Seojin was his brother, and that was all that mattered.
Seojin's parents, Han Minho and Han Jiwon, stood nearby, watching over him with care. They didn't see the child they had lost once before. They only saw the baby before them—fragile, small, but full of potential. There was no knowledge of Seojin's previous life or death. They didn't know why their son seemed different, nor would they ever know.
Seojin's mother, Han Jiwon, stood close by, her gaze soft as she looked down at her newborn child. "He's so small, Minho... so fragile," she whispered, brushing a lock of hair away from his face.
Her words were filled with the typical wonder and concern a mother would feel for her newborn. She saw only a child who needed love and care, a child who would one day grow strong—but she did not see the future savior, the genius, the martial artist who had once walked among the gods.
Seojin's father, Han Minho, stood at the doorway, his eyes fixed on his son. His expression was unreadable, but there was a quiet tenderness in the way he watched Seojin. To him, this was simply the moment his son had been born. There was no hidden knowledge of Seojin's fate, no realization of who Seojin had once been.
Minho's sharp mind was focused solely on the present. He had always been a calculated man, but in this moment, he was simply a father, watching his son with pride and concern. "He'll grow strong," Minho murmured. "He'll be fine."
Seojin closed his eyes for a moment, letting the sounds of his family wash over him. The memories of his past life—the one filled with martial arts, power, and death—rushed to the forefront of his mind, but he pushed them aside. They were irrelevant now. He was back in the past, a second chance, but with a fragile body that would take time to grow strong once more.
As he lay in his brother's arms, Seojin allowed himself a rare moment of peace. He had no power here. He was just a baby, and for now, he had to wait. Wait for his body to grow strong, for his strength to return. He couldn't rush it. He couldn't force it. But deep down, Seojin knew what was coming. He knew the power that would awaken inside him, and when it did, he would surpass everything he had ever been.
Jiwon's gaze remained soft as he looked down at his younger brother, his arms cradling Seojin gently. To him, Seojin was just a baby, a sibling to care for and protect. There was no recognition of anything extraordinary. Jiwon had no idea of the changes his brother had undergone, nor of the future greatness Seojin was destined to achieve.
Seojin's family continued to watch over him, providing warmth, love, and care. They did not know the truth about the child they held—only that he was their son, their brother, a newborn that needed their protection. They could not fathom the trials and struggles Seojin had endured, nor the weight of the destiny that lay ahead. They simply saw a fragile child, in need of nothing more than the warmth of his family.
Seojin's mind buzzed with the weight of his memories, but he knew that he could not reveal them—not yet. The time would come when he could reclaim his power, when his destiny would unfold once more. But for now, all he could do was rest and wait for the days ahead, the days when he would rise again.
The family had no knowledge of what had happened—no memory of Seojin's death, nor of his rebirth. They only saw their son, their brother, their child. And for now, that was all that mattered.
Seojin would rise again. But in this moment, he was simply a child, and nothing more.Days passed in a blur of warmth and care, but to Seojin, each moment felt like an eternity. His body was weak, fragile, and unresponsive. The physical sensations were dull, unfamiliar—his once powerful muscles, the same ones that had carried him through battles and trials, were now nothing more than helpless limbs. Yet, deep within him, he could feel the stirrings of power, a dormant force waiting to awaken.
The world around him was calm, peaceful. His parents, Han Minho and Han Jiwon, continued to dote on him with an affection that only parents could provide. His mother was particularly gentle, humming soft lullabies as she cradled him in her arms, her voice a constant comfort to his young ears. His father, though more stoic, could often be found watching him with a quiet pride, as if seeing his son as a promise for the future, not realizing the immense weight Seojin carried in his mind.
Then, there was his brother, Han Jiwon.
Jiwon spent much of his time beside Seojin, quietly observing him with a tender gaze. To Seojin, his brother was an enigma. Jiwon was still the same—strong, kind, and filled with an unwavering sense of protectiveness. But there was no recognition of who Seojin had been, and that saddened him. Jiwon was like a bright, shining star in Seojin's past life, but now he was just a child, unaware of the fate that had been thrust upon him. Seojin wanted to reach out to him, to explain everything, but he knew better. Jiwon would not understand.
Seojin's thoughts often drifted to the memories of his former life—the martial arts, the power struggles, the enemies he had faced. He remembered the cold steel of a blade cutting through the air, the crackling energy of a battle, and the moment when everything had come to an end. He had been on the verge of reaching the peak of human strength, but death had claimed him first. He could still recall the feeling of helplessness as the deity-level expert had struck him down. It had been a bitter end, one filled with regret.
And now, he was here, reborn into a body so fragile, so small, that it barely felt like his own. It was a cruel irony. He had once stood at the pinnacle of power, and now he had to relearn everything. His body was still that of an infant, and even though his mind was sharp, he could do nothing. Not yet.
Seojin lay in his crib, his thoughts turning inward. He could feel the strength he had once known stirring within him, but it was distant, buried deep beneath layers of his infant form. The martial arts techniques, the movements that had once flowed naturally to him, were locked away. His body wasn't ready. His mind wasn't ready. But the memories—the knowledge—remained, and that was both a blessing and a curse.
The days continued to pass, and Seojin began to grow stronger. Slowly, his body gained a bit of control, enough for him to lift his head slightly, to focus his gaze, and even to track the movement of his family around him. His hearing was sharp, his sight improving every day. Yet his greatest challenge was the quiet frustration that gnawed at him. He had been a genius, a warrior of unparalleled strength, but now he was forced to start over.
He would have to be patient. He would have to wait for the moment when his body and mind were ready to awaken once more. It would take time—years, perhaps. But he would not forget. He could not forget.
The family continued to live in blissful ignorance of Seojin's true identity. To them, he was simply their youngest child, their son, their brother. They had no idea of the power that lay dormant within him, no understanding of the trials he had faced in his previous life. They saw only the innocent child before them, and that was all that mattered.
Jiwon, as always, took the role of the protective older brother. He was attentive and caring, always there to soothe Seojin when he cried, to make sure he was comfortable, to check on him when he was asleep. Seojin could feel the love and concern radiating from his brother, but there was a part of him that longed for more—the connection they had once shared, the bond forged through hardship and shared experiences.
But it was gone. In this new life, there was no rivalry, no competition. There was only Seojin, a baby, dependent on his family for everything.
As Seojin grew, so too did his awareness of the situation. He began to understand the depth of the challenge ahead of him. He was still young, but his mind was vast, a sprawling landscape of memories and knowledge. The martial arts that had once come to him so easily were locked away, waiting for the day when his body would be ready. But that day was not today.
His family remained unaware, content in the peace of their lives. They saw the future only as something full of potential for Seojin, never suspecting the weight of the world that he carried. He was not just a child, after all. He was something more—something that had seen the end of his life and returned for a second chance.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Seojin's physical body grew stronger, and the power within him began to stir. But he knew the truth: He was just a child. No matter how much he remembered, no matter how much power he carried, he was bound to the limitations of his new life. He would have to wait, to bide his time.
One day, when the time was right, he would rise again.
The journey ahead would not be easy. There would be challenges, enemies, and trials. His family would continue to care for him, but they would remain unaware of his true nature. And when the time came for him to take his place in the world once more, he would need to navigate the complexities of a world he once ruled, a world filled with the factions that had shaped his life.
But for now, Seojin was content to rest in the warmth of his family's embrace. He had been given a second chance. And this time, he would not waste it.