The last thing I remember was the smell of bleach and the rhythmic, mocking hiss-click of a machine. In that life, I was a ghost haunting my own skin. An orphan, bedridden and forgotten, my world was the size of a hospital ceiling. I had lived through the stories of others, listening to the caretakers whisper about their own lives while they changed my IV drips.

  I died without much regret. My parents had been arguing about how to abandon me just seconds before the car accident that took them and left me a vegetable. I had no relatives, no visitors, and no one to hold my hand. All I ever prayed for was a family that wanted me.

  Then, the darkness broke.

  The first thing I felt was warmth. It wasn't the sterile heat of a hospital blanket, but a heavy, comforting weight. My lungs, which had been weak and useless for twenty years, expanded with a sudden, violent strength. I let out a cry—not because I was in pain, but because I finally could.

  "Oh, look at him! Look at those eyes!"

  The voice was like honey. I blinked, my vision blurry, until a face came into focus. It was a woman with skin the color of rich earth and eyes that sparkled with a light I had never seen in my previous life. She was looking at me like I was the most precious thing in the world.

  Beside her stood a man with broad shoulders and hands stained with the grease of a workshop. He looked tired, but when he saw me, the exhaustion vanished.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  "He’s perfect," the man whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "He’s finally here."

  I stared at them, my tiny heart thumping against my ribs. For the first time, I wasn't an 'it' or a 'patient.' I was a son. I reached out a small, chubby hand and gripped the man's thumb. His skin was rough, calloused from working in the village factory, but his touch was incredibly gentle.

  As I held on to him, a strange, clear window appeared in my mind. It didn't feel like the TVs I used to watch; it felt like it was part of my very soul.

  [System Initializing...]

  [Name: Zan Koda]

  [Status: Koda Village Heir]

  [Soul Integration: 100%]

  [Detection: Host has taken the first breath of a new life.]

  [Reward: Martial God Cultivation Technique (Fully Integrated)]

  [First Mission Triggered: The Path of the Heir]

  [Objective: Host must be crowned as the official heir of Koda Village and perform the ancient rites within 18 years.]

  [Reward: Special Unknown.]

  I felt a sudden surge of heat rush through my tiny limbs. It wasn't painful; it was like a river of energy was being carved into my body, settling into my bones and muscles. My grip on my father's thumb tightened instinctively.

  "Look at that strength!" my father laughed, a deep, booming sound that filled the room. "Adoma, our boy is going to be a titan. He’s already trying to wrestle his old man."

  My mother, Adoma, laughed softly and kissed my cheek. "Let him rest, Kobina. He has a long journey ahead of him."

  I felt a sense of peace I hadn't known in twenty years. I didn't know what a 'Martial God' was, and I didn't know what rites I had to perform. All I knew was that these people loved me. I closed my eyes, tucked into the crook of my mother's arm, and let sleep take me.

  In my last life, I was broken and alone. In this one, I was the heir to a village, and I had a family to protect. I would take my time growing up. I would learn the smell of the smoke from the factory and the sound of the village drums.

  I was finally home.