Galaxy Martial God Temple - Reincarnation (2)
The time of my avatar, viewed through the multidimensional lens, was flowing steadily. The sight of other newborns wriggling and cooing beside me confirmed that time was indeed moving forward.
The 3D avatar was an ability that let me control a separate avatar from my main body or yet another proxy. There was no physical controller, but I shared roughly one-tenth of the avatar’s senses, allowing me to direct it through sheer will.
Huh? Oh, I can’t move because I’m wrapped in swaddling clothes.
I tried commanding it, but the infant body refused to budge. Could I control multiple avatars at once? The question led me to activate the 3D avatar on my original body as well.
“Oh, simultaneous control works too.”
Like dual monitors, both avatars appeared in my vision from a bird’s-eye perspective. I left the reincarnation avatar—which could barely move—alone and tested the tower one instead.
On the bed in my lodging, it rolled exactly as I willed, then sat up and stood on my command.
“It looks identical to real movement, but the sensation feels off.”
Combat in this state would clearly be impossible. The reaction lag was obvious. If I had been a world-class pro gamer in a fighting title, maybe I could have compensated, but I wasn’t that skilled, so the delay felt even worse.
At least long-distance travel would be convenient. A joystick-style controller would have been nice, but attempting to pilot both bodies with pure consciousness triggered a sharp headache.
It seemed dual control was technically possible yet impractical to maintain. I laid the tower avatar back on the bed and deactivated the 3D avatar.
While observing my newborn self, I analyzed the ability and discovered it included video-player functions: pause, play, and acceleration. Of course, stopping or speeding up time didn’t affect only my avatar—the entire dimension froze or accelerated along with it. More accurately, it wasn’t true temporal manipulation but an alteration of my own perception.
“Anywhere from 0.001x to a maximum of 1000x speed.”
I reactivated the 3D avatar on the tower body and tested it again. At 2x or 3x it followed my will almost perfectly, but beyond that a noticeable lag appeared between intention and execution.
That was only natural. If I accelerated to 10x speed and issued a sit-stand command every second, the avatar’s world would receive those orders ten seconds apart.
However, macro-style repeat commands executed without delay. When I ordered the avatar to keep sitting and standing until I told it to stop, it performed the loop flawlessly even at 10x speed.
If I’m going to accelerate, I’ll need to write the macros carefully.
Of course, such commands meant nothing to an infant who could only lie there.
“Now I see why the system granted me both Reincarnation and the 3D avatar.”
Without the latter, I would have been stuck as a baby for years. Thanks to this ability, I could fast-forward through the unpleasant early stages.
At least until I’m out of diapers, I’ll keep the speed moderately accelerated.
I returned the tower avatar to the bed and refocused on the reincarnation body. Time was already accelerated, and I had pre-input a command to suck and swallow whenever a bottle was placed in my mouth.
“Biological functions like sleep seem to run automatically without specific orders.”
The 3D avatar remained active even while the infant slept. I sat quietly in my main body, observing at 100x speed for ten minutes, when something odd caught my attention.
Why aren’t the parents coming?
Even if they had visited while I was unconscious, ten minutes at 100x speed equaled roughly sixteen hours and thirty-six minutes. Yet the only visitors were nurses and doctors. No parents or guardians appeared at all.
This wasn’t an orphanage start. Since I had awakened in a maternity hospital, biological parents should exist—so why weren’t they coming to see me? Had something happened?
About five minutes later—roughly eight hours in avatar time—a beautiful woman wearing a coat emblazoned with a distinctive emblem arrived to visit me.
I halted the acceleration and focused on the sound.
The doctor in charge of Cheon Jiwoo—the son of the deceased mother—headed to the guardian waiting room upon hearing that the guardian had finally arrived. Newborns were vulnerable to infection, so they were kept in a sterile unit; immediate visitation was not permitted even if requested. The waiting room served as a space for outsiders who wished to see the infants.
When the doctor saw the woman in the coat bearing the Cheon Clan emblem, he let out an involuntary sigh.
“An android…”
At his murmur, the woman gave a slight, polite bow.
“It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Siwoo, the exclusive android assigned to Cheon Juyu and Seo Kyung-ae.”
Android. Unlike cyborgs, these were fully mechanical humanoids constructed from the ground up. Their telltale features were an almost unreal beauty, the faint emblem engraved on their temples, and the solar plexus marker.
The doctor could not help sighing at the fact that Siwoo—an android—had come. It was not out of prejudice. He simply worried for the child’s future.
The arrival of a household android rather than a family member suggested that the Cheon Clan, or more precisely the infant’s legal guardian and paternal grandfather, held little interest in the boy. At the same time, their indifference meant the hospital and the doctor himself were unlikely to face repercussions for failing to save the mother.
Of course, the Cheon Clan was a prestigious righteous sect representing the galactic murim world; they would not create unnecessary scandal. Still, the fear of a powerful family’s potential tyranny lingered.
He had assured his subordinates that everything would be fine, yet he had been anxious inside. Siwoo seemed to read his concern and spoke.
“Please do not worry. We are aware that the hospital did its utmost. Furthermore, my new master, Cheon Jiwoo, will receive full support as a direct descendant of the clan.”
When asked whether that support included familial love and attention, she could not have answered. The doctor, reassured by her fluent and courteous speech, nodded.
“I-I see. That is a relief.”
Androids came in various grades. Lower-grade units followed commands like factory machines, but high-grade models incorporating the technological singularity displayed emotions and intellect nearly indistinguishable from humans. Consequently, androids with the singularity received quasi-human legal status, and their manufacture was heavily regulated.
Siwoo was clearly a high-grade model with the singularity, so her statement about full support carried credibility. Such androids were not merely expensive—they could not be bought with money alone. If one had been bequeathed to an orphaned newborn, the child would at least face no material hardship.
Some might call this concern meddlesome, but it was simply the professional conscience of a physician who cared for his patients.
“I must also apologize for the delay. Finalizing inheritance procedures—including my own transfer—took longer than expected.”
“Ah, that is quite all right.”
“May I ask when my master, Young Master Cheon Jiwoo, might be discharged?”
“Tests on the infant are not yet complete, so immediate discharge is difficult.”
Because the mother had been weakened by long illness, the baby required thorough examination.
“It will take at least two weeks. However, there appear to be no serious health concerns, so visitation is possible.”
At the doctor’s words, Siwoo nodded.
“I would like to see him immediately.”
“Please follow me.”
Guided by the doctor, Siwoo proceeded to the neonatal viewing room. After undergoing disinfection, she looked through the transparent glass into the nursery where several newborns lay. A nurse brought Cheon Jiwoo, still on his wheeled bassinet, to the viewing area.
Upon seeing the infant who had become her new master, Siwoo bowed at the waist.
“It is my first time meeting you. From today onward, I, Siwoo, the nanny android who will serve in place of Young Master’s deceased parents, greet you respectfully.”
Siwoo did not expect the newborn to understand her words, yet she followed proper procedure. From this moment, this infant was both her master and the one she must protect.
I stared at the face of “Siwoo,” who had introduced herself as the nanny android, and could not help admiring her.
“Wow, she really is beautiful.”
An android, though. So they truly existed. A robot that moved and lived like a human—apparently this dimension I had assumed was a martial world was actually a sci-fi setting.
Strange. I definitely sensed the Blue Wood Swordsmanship and a powerful fate tied to it. Did I make a mistake?
More importantly, I was now Cheon Jiwoo instead of Han Jiwoo. I had expected my entire name to change upon reincarnation, yet only the surname had shifted. Had the Tower adjusted it? It felt vaguely unfilial.
If I ever used Reincarnation again, would I end up like Lü Bu with three fathers? Except all three would be biological rather than adoptive.
In truth, I had already learned from the nurses’ chatter—before Siwoo mentioned it—that my reborn self had no living parents. The nurses had loose lips. Then again, what could they possibly have to hide in front of a baby who could barely babble?
The neonatal unit seemed to have good security, yet it also served as a place where staff could freely gossip about their superiors.
From their conversation, I gathered that my father had died somehow—I didn’t know the details—leaving me without parents. My mother, despite being critically ill, had miraculously given birth to me before passing away.
I wasn’t sure whether to view that positively or negatively. I would decide once I could control my own body.
Yet somehow, it didn’t feel entirely negative. With that thought, I accelerated time again.
After roughly two weeks at 100x speed, the doctor declared me perfectly healthy and summoned my guardian, the nanny android. Siwoo placed me inside something resembling a pet carrier, drove a car, and headed toward the home where I would grow up.
Viewed from the 3D perspective, the city streets were remarkably advanced. Some vehicles rolled on wheels while others floated through the air. Skyscrapers lined the downtown area, and once we left the city center, rows of luxurious single-family homes with gardens appeared—clearly an affluent neighborhood.
It looks like I’ve been reborn as a rich family’s young master.
A very rich one, at that.
(To be continued in the next chapter)