The world smelled of dust, wet wood, and something sour. I blinked, tiny hands trembling against the floor, but inside my skull, the mind of a man burned bright and sharp. Twenty-one years of experience, regret, and cunning compressed into a five-year-old's fragile frame. I had been reborn, and I knew exactly what that meant.
I didn't cry. I didn't panic. I didn't beg. Crying and begging were for children, for people who didn't understand the rules of survival. I was Von. Ruthless. Calculating. Dangerous, even in this small, fragile body.
The room was dim and cramped, a storage area in some orphanage judging by the smell and the piles of broken crates. Shadows danced across the walls where the sun barely reached. Rats skittered along the floor, squeaking and unaware of me. I analyzed everything: exits, obstacles, potential weapons, weak points. The world was a chessboard. I was the player.
Not bad, I thought. For a start, not bad at all.
First Signs of Power
I flexed my tiny hands, focusing. There was a faint hum in my chest—a pulse of cursed energy. Small, barely perceptible, but enough. I didn't understand the full limits yet. I only knew instinctively that this energy could create life, control objects, bend the weak things of the world to my will.
A shadow stirred in the corner. Two forms flickered into existence, crude, blocky, ugly.
Arthur. A golden humanoid, stiff as wood, barely more than a puppet.
Lancelot. A black stick figure with jagged red eyes, jerky and awkward in movement.
Not impressive. Not threatening. But obedient. My puppets, born from the faint pulse of cursed energy, were mine. That was all that mattered.
I crouched, observing. A rat scurried across the floor, completely unaware of the predators watching it.
"Go," I whispered.
Arthur lunged, stiff and clumsy, but his blocky fist connected. Lancelot followed, jerking forward awkwardly, shadowy red energy rippling from its body. The rat exploded into cursed fragments. Harmless. Yet effective.
I studied their movements, noting every flaw. The swing of Arthur's arm was off-angle. Lancelot's shadow pulse lacked precision. But obedience? Perfect.
Good. Not much, but mine. And that's enough.
I wasn't a child. I didn't cry. I didn't beg. The orphanage, the other kids, the adults—they were irrelevant. None of them mattered. I had cursed energy. I had instinct. I had puppets. And I had a plan.
I will survive. I will grow. I will control.
Even now, with two pathetic puppets and a fragile body, I felt it: the spark of potential, raw and unshaped. Puppet Sovereignty—the ability to create life from cursed energy—was mine. I didn't understand its full limits yet, but I would. And when I did… the world would regret underestimating Von.
Experimentation Begins
I picked up a broken crate and focused. A thread of cursed energy pulsed outward. The crate shuddered, shifted, and floated. My small body could barely support the strain, but the result was perfect. Arthur and Lancelot followed my mental commands, moving awkwardly but obediently, keeping pace with the floating object.
I experimented with small motions: turning, lifting, tapping, striking. Every tiny action was recorded in my mind, evaluated, memorized. My puppets responded to instinct alone, but I could refine their movements with cursed energy. They were crude now, blocky, ugly—but they were learning. Slowly, painfully, inevitably.
They will be weapons.
They will obey perfectly.
And one day, they will be unstoppable.
A rat emerged again, skittish, weak, insignificant. I didn't hesitate. Arthur's fist swung, Lancelot's jagged form followed. The rat was destroyed before it realized it existed. Observing the process, I noted the flow of energy between my mind and my puppets. They were slow, stiff, weak—but obedient. They were alive, and they were mine.
This was only the beginning. I could feel the spark of potential in each of them, a faint pulse of power waiting to be awakened. One day, these crude dolls would be more than toys. They would wield techniques beyond imagination.
Foreshadowing of Power
I had no illusions. This body was weak. Vulnerable. A liability. But I had plans, patience, and cursed energy. Obedient soldiers at my disposal. And I knew about Binding Vows—not fully, not yet—but I would discover their potential soon. Limits could be turned into power. Restrictions could be leveraged. Every constraint could be a weapon if applied correctly.
Ten puppets. Special Grade. Unstoppable.
I didn't smile. I didn't cheer. I didn't feel the fleeting thrill of a child's innocence. I was Von. I was ruthless. And I would shape this world to my will.
I had been reborn into a small, fragile body. Alone. Orphaned. Vulnerable. But inside, I was Von. The world didn't know it yet, but it would. The name Von would one day be whispered with fear, not pity.
For now, Arthur and Lancelot stood beside me, blocky and crude, but alive, obedient, and hungry for growth.
This is only the beginning. And I will not fail.