You ever wake up in a fantasy world, realize it's the same story you wrote in high school, and then find out it's now 400 years later?
No?
Just me?
Right. Let me explain.
Apparently, this world—where nobles throw tea parties with fireballs and swords talk back to you—is the exact same world from my old light novel: The Demon King is Strong and the Elves Hero is OP.
Yup. That gloriously cringe piece of literature I wrote when I was sixteen, filled with plot holes, sparkle attacks, and way too many dramatic monologues?
Yeah, that one.
Except now, the story's over. The heroes won. The Demon King exploded in chapter 38. Peace reigns. The kingdoms rebuilt.
Four centuries later, here I am. Reincarnated. Born to House Autumn.
And no, I didn't get a cheat system or some voice whispering sweet tutorial messages in my sleep. No truck hit me. I got shot once and boom—baby mode.
The nobles here are pretty standard: arrogant, fancy, dramatic.
My family? Surprisingly normal.
My dad, Lord Cedric Autumn, is a semi-important noble who talks like he's in a Shakespeare play and keeps losing at chess to our butler.
My mom, Lady Elira, is sweet but suspiciously good at "accidentally" testing my reflexes with flying spoons.
And then there's Ariana Autumn—my little sister.
Blonde hair. Sparkly eyes. Literal floating baby at birth.
Everyone calls her a genius. A prodigy. The reincarnation of magic itself.
At four years old, she can levitate a chair, recite ancient incantations, and once accidentally set a noble's wig on fire. (He looked better bald, honestly.)
And me?
Well…
I nap a lot.
On purpose.
Because I am fully committed to my identity as:
Ash Autumn, the world's most suspiciously average child.
---
The day I turned six, everything changed.
Sort of.
Not really.
Okay, the schedule changed.
Now I had to start "official training" with our house instructor, Sir Garrick. A serious, steel-faced knight who looked like he ate bricks for breakfast and cried only during sword maintenance.
"Ash," he barked. "Today we begin your warrior education."
I nodded, eyes half-lidded. "Okay. Please go easy on me. I'm very… delicate."
Garrick stared at me like he was reconsidering his life choices.
He handed me a wooden sword. I held it like it might explode.
"Swing," he ordered.
I swung.
Weakly. Wobbly. Like a pigeon trying to dance.
Garrick sighed. "Again."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ariana on the other side of the training field.
Also training.
Except she wasn't just swinging.
She was beating the living soul out of a combat dummy.
At four years old.
The dummy was begging for mercy. In spirit, at least.
Ariana spun, kicked, twirled, and let out a bubbly, "Wheee~!" as a fireball shot out and hit the dummy so hard it disintegrated.
Everyone clapped.
Knights. Maids. Birds.
Even Garrick paused to give a slow nod.
"Prodigious," he muttered.
Meanwhile, I tripped over my own foot and landed face-first in a patch of dirt.
"...I meant to do that," I mumbled.
Everyone ignored me.
---
Later that night, after pretending to ice my "injuries" with a lettuce leaf, I waited.
Until midnight.
When the whole house was asleep.
I slipped out of bed, pulled on a black cloak I stitched from curtains, and tiptoed past the snoring butler.
Time for my real training.
Destination: Wolfven Forest.
Home of scary growls, glowing eyes, and monsters with names like "Razorclaw the Night Terror."
Normal knights avoided the place unless they had backup.
Why?
Because of the Night Wolves.
Shadowy, fast, and mean. It usually took three fully armored knights to take one down.
Me?
I brought a stick.
Okay, not a stick—a reinforced mana rod I carved myself using basic wind runes and ego.
I entered the forest, stepping over roots and crunching leaves like a sneaky anime protagonist.
Then I heard it.
Grrrrr…
From the darkness, a Night Wolf emerged.
Glowing red eyes. Fangs. Claws. Muscles rippling with mana.
It growled.
I yawned.
"Finally."
It pounced.
I didn't move.
Until the last second.
Then I whispered, "5% power."
And everything changed.
One sidestep. One low spin. My leg swept out.
CRACK.
The wolf flew into a tree and slid down, unconscious.
Another one lunged. I ducked, backflipped, landed on its head, and used its momentum to flip it into the air like I was a magical WWE star.
Third one tried to flank me.
I smiled.
"You picked the wrong background character."
THUD.
Three wolves down.
Total time? Under two minutes.
Heart rate? Calm.
Expression? Bored.
Afterward, I pulled out a notepad labeled "Secret OP Progress Tracker" and scribbled:
Night Wolf x3 defeated
Power used: 5%
Dramatic lines delivered: 1.5 (still working on catchphrases)
Then I walked home through the woods like it was a morning jog.
---
By dawn, I was back in bed.
By breakfast, I was back in character.
I dragged my feet to the table, sat beside Ariana (who was conjuring a wind spirit into her cereal), and yawned dramatically.
"Did you sleep well, dear?" my mom asked.
I blinked slowly. "I dreamed I was a potato."
She nodded solemnly. "A noble dream."
Ariana pointed at me and giggled. "Nii-chan's funny!"
Garrick entered with today's training schedule.
"Master Ash, today you'll be practicing balance on wooden logs."
I nodded solemnly. "I fear I may fall and crack my average skull."
"You'll be fine," Garrick replied, fully believing I was the physical equivalent of overcooked pasta.
He wasn't wrong. I acted like it.
But inside?
I was already planning my next move.
Tonight, I'd take on five Night Wolves.
And maybe even use 6% power.
---
The best part?
No one suspected a thing.
Not the butler. Not the knights. Not even the magical talking cat statue in the hallway (which only speaks once every 87 years).
To them, I was the sleepy, slightly odd first-born noble who got outshined by his genius sister.
But me?
I was building toward something far greater.
A legacy that would shake the world… without ever looking like I did anything special.
Because in this world of sparkle attacks and magical prodigies…
The true game changer?
Was me.
And I was only getting started.
---