Azrael lingered on the bed far longer than he intended. Even after the early shock of waking up in a strange room, in a strange body, and in a world he only remembered from a webnovel, his mind refused to settle. He groaned, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes.
"Reincarnation… of all things," he muttered. "Why me? And why here of all worlds?"
The frustration didn't help the headache pulsing behind his temples. Eventually, he pushed himself up with a heavy sigh and dragged his body to the washroom. Cold water was the only mercy he knew, so he twisted the faucet all the way and let the icy stream pour down on him.
The water felt like needles stabbing his skin, but slowly—mercifully—the headache faded, leaving behind only the faint echo of exhaustion.
When he stepped out, towel around his neck, he caught sight of himself in the full-length mirror.
He froze.
His reflection looked back at him with impossibly sharp features—delicate yet striking, soft yet dangerous. His hair fell in loose strands, dark at the roots and fading into a cool silver at the tips. His eyes… were the most startling. A deep, clear obsidian, flecked with faint streaks of light that shimmered like constellations.
"Is this—" he leaned forward, squinting, "—good-looking, heart-shattering person… me?"
A moment of disbelief passed.
Then another.
And then he shamelessly admired himself for a good minute, turning his head left and right as if checking angles for a portrait.
"Damn… Was the reincarnation lottery feeling generous today?" he muttered.
He didn't know whether to be grateful or annoyed.
After eventually dragging himself away from the mirror, Azrael changed into a simple white shirt and black pants laid neatly on a chair. The fabric was smooth, tailored, and noticeably expensive. Not too flashy, but dignified enough for the son of a duke—just as he remembered from the novel's descriptions.
"Right… Duke's household," he exhaled. "If I remember correctly, the Crimson Duchy is a powerhouse."
A dangerous one.
A noble house famous for one thing: their eyes.
A faint shiver crawled down Azrael's spine.
He sat at the edge of the bed and took another deep breath.
"System."
Silence.
"System, open."
Nothing.
"System, screen?"
Still nothing.
Azrael's eye twitched. "Why do protagonists always get an obedient system while I—"
"Status," he sighed defeatedly.
Ding.
A soft chime rang in the air, and a translucent panel erupted into existence. He nearly jumped.
"Oh, so you only understand that word," he muttered.
The panel flickered.
[Status Panel Initializing… 1% → 32% → 76% → 100%]
Name: Azrael Crimson
Race: Human (High-tier Variant)
Age: 16
Affiliation: Duchy of crimson
Stats:
Strength: E+
Agility: E+
Mana Capacity: D
Intelligence: SSS+
Endurance: D
Perception: D+
Elemental Affinities:
— Life (Rare-grade)
— Space (Rare-grade)
— Death (Rare-grade)
Potential:
SSS+
Family Gift:
◆ Crimson Eyes — "Astral Gaze"
• Can perceive microscopic and minute details with impossible clarity.
• Automatically detects traces of mana flow, spell patterns, and energy distortions.
• Allows natural perception of Ether without training.
• Enhances casting accuracy, combat response, and spatial awareness.
Skills:
— Basic Swordsmanship (B)
— Mana Control (A)
— Elemental Resonance (A)
— Spatial Sense (B+)
__ Shadow contract (B+)
__ Poison immunity
__ Basic healing (B+)
The numbers… didn't make sense.
Azrael stared at the panel, stunned into silence. These weren't beginner stats. They weren't even protagonist-level stats.
They were cheat codes.
"…Is this a joke?" He scanned the attributes again. Lightning, space, ice—each alone was considered high-tier, but together? Even major characters in the original webnovel only had one or two high affinities.
"I'm more broken than half the cast," he muttered under his breath.
His gaze drifted to the bottom of the screen.
"Astral Gaze…"
Recognition flickered in his mind. The Crimson family's trademark—eyes that could analyze the world itself. In the novel, only a few direct descendants ever awakened the full potential.
"It makes sense then…" Azrael touched his eyelids lightly. "That's why I could see ether earlier."
When he first opened his eyes in this new world, he had seen soft, glowing threads floating around him—strings of mana, particles of ether—like a slow-moving galaxy suspended in air.
No normal person could see that.
Not even most mages.
But these eyes… these eyes were absurd.
A sudden rush of clarity filled him as he shifted his gaze. The particles in the air sharpened instantly. He could see faint currents, trails of mana clinging to objects, tiny imperfections in the wooden floor, even the slight fluctuation of temperature by the window.
"Amazing," he whispered.
And terrifying.
Because if he remembered correctly, the Crimson lineage was both revered and feared for these very eyes. Great for survival in the story. Bad for someone who wanted to stay low-key.
Azrael sat back on the bed, trying to process everything.
He had reincarnated.
He had become someone with incredible potential.
A noble.
A power from one of the strongest families.
Overpowered eyes.
Three high-tier affinities.
"So… what now?" he whispered.
Survive.
That was the only clear answer.
He wasn't the story's protagonist.
He wasn't even a major character.
In the original novel, Azrael Crimson existed as a passing mention—a brief footnote. Someone barely relevant.
But now… this body was his.
And he had no intention of dying a forgettable side character's death.
His heart steadied, a strange determination seeping into him.
"I'll live," he murmured. "No matter what this world throws at me… I'll live better than any protagonist."
He didn't know whether he should laugh or cry at the challenge he had just given himself.
But before he could reflect further—
Knock. Knock.
A sharp, rhythmic tapping echoed from the door.
Azrael jolted upright, heart leaping.
Someone was here.
"Young Master Azrael," a calm voice called from the other side. "Are you awake? The Duke has requested your presence."
His breath hitched.
The Duke.
His new father.
The man known as the Silent War God.
"…Great," Azrael whispered, straightening his clothes. "Just perfect."
With one last glance at his reflection—at the unfamiliar, beautiful face that now belonged to him—Azrael stepped toward the door.
And his new life truly began.